


Roman Sionis’ List of Grievances

by DrByron



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DCU
Genre: Character Study, Comedy, Ficlet Collection, M/M, ZsaszMask
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrByron/pseuds/DrByron
Summary: Concept: A collection of stand-alone short stories based on the long list of grievances why Roman Sionis hates Harley Quinn. Each accusation will be used as a writing prompt: What the hell happened? Just a little challenge as a writing exercise, let’s see how many I can get in. It’s been forever since I last wrote a fic. Hope you enjoy.Chapter 1: Harley discusses the subtleties of language with Roman.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 56
Kudos: 178





	1. Pronounced It “Expresso”

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to replicate Harley’s Brooklyn accent. I had no idea what I was doing. I read too much Irvine Welsh and figured I could give phonetic dialects a try! I’m so sorry, everybody. 
> 
> [For more Zsaszmask content, find me on Twitter: [DrByr0n](https://twitter.com/DrByr0n)]

In the golden hour of a September afternoon, I watched Victor Zsasz walk towards me in that café on Main Street that I love, our orders steady in his hands. It’s not that the staff doesn’t do table service, or would make an exception for us even if they didn’t. Oh they would. It’s just that I like it when he keeps an eye out while they prepare it. And he happily does it for me, no questions asked. He takes my concerns seriously (no matter how small) and even adds some more, and THIS is why I take him to nice outings like this. I enjoyed the sight of his broad shoulders in his freshly pressed button down shirt with vertical stripes - was that the one Fred Perry he owned? But what was that... Right behind him, there was something that made my stomach sink as soon as I could put a face to it. With a bouncy step and an inappropriately slutty get-up for such an expensive place, one Miss Harley Quinn had appeared out of nowhere, and my smile must’ve vanished immediately.  
  
“Sorry boss, she followed me.” Zsasz mumbled.  
“Oh don’t worry about it.” I smiled. “Hello, Ms Quinn... How are you this afternoon? Didn’t know you went out during the day at all... All on your own, too... To these types of establishments, to top it off!”  
“These types a establishments?” She pulled in a chair and swivelled it around to sit on it - back rest forward. “This is a coffeeshop, not a BORDELLO, ya little jokester!” That obnoxious coastal accent. “Although ah was kinda hopin' fo anotha typa coffeeshop, ya know, but ah’ll settle fa havin kawfee with ma fav’rite club owner. Aftah the Penguin, ah mean. Can’t beat that cool igloo lounge, ya know. So, your treat, Romy baby?”  
That fucking bitch Harley Quinn. Interrupting my afternoon coffee to spit insults into my face. How did I deserve this, really, how? I looked for help in Victor’s eyes and he shrugged and gave me one of those patient, wonky smiles that always gave me a little bit of ease. Took off the edge, for a minute, tops. We’d see how much Quinn could blow my lid within that fucking minute.  
“'Kay. Sure! Sit down.” I gave her a fake, functional smile. “We were just on a date to discuss business _and pleasure_ , but why don’t you join us uninvitedly?” My sarcasm should’ve given her a hint, but I had underestimated the sheer density of Harley Quinn.  
She exclaimed with glee, “Don’t mind if I do!” and snatched one of the small porcelain cups Victor had brought, eyeballing the fluid inside. “So whatcha havin? Black expressos, ey? Man, you’re so edgy, Romy. Or is that s’pposed ta match ya jacket or sumthin?”  
“Uh, uhh-huh... well it’s pronounced ‘ESpresso’, for one.”  
“With an s, not an x.” Victor added.  
He and I exchanged a brief smile - I had corrected him on the same mispronunciation before, a harmless uninformed mistake on his side, and he’s been doing such a good job of getting it right since then. Gotta hand it to him.  
“Nah, pretty sure it’s ‘expresso’. Like in fast, ya know, like they say in Italian?” She pouted with focus and did the Italian finger gesture, thumb touching index and middle finger. “Ex-e-presso! They pump it through the machine, PEE-UGH, with the water real hot and boiling, like, KSHHHH, an ya got yaself an expresso! Fast brew, not a slow-drip cuppa joe, ya know? So ah’m preeetty sure ah’m right about that.”  
I blinked in disbelief. I had been looking forward to having an afternoon coffee date with Victor Zsasz, soak in some sun and listen to the easy jazz in the café. Get lost in his eyes and watch him do the same... But there Harley Quinn barged in, not taking a fucking hint, ruining my entire fucking day. ‘EXPRESSO’... I corrected her! It’s not that hard! Why can’t she just get it right and fuck off?  
“Well you’re fucking WRONG!” I exploded. “It’s derived from ‘esprimere’, okay, which is Italian for expressing a feeling or idea!”  
“What? That makes absolutely no sense.” She chuckled, sniffing the espresso. “Coffee is ‘a feeling’? Nah, pretty sure it’s expresso.”  
“If I hear you say ‘expresso’ one more time...”  
“Then what? Ya gunna call the grammar police?”  
“NO! FUCK!! It’s your pronunciation that is wrong! Not the grammar! I swear to god-”  
Victor placed a hand on my arm and gave me a concerned look. He shook his head slightly - it wasn’t worth it. Not for the risk of making a scene at my favorite café. People were already looking, so I took a deep breath.  
“It’s ‘espresso’, please, just... How can you fucking insist on being wrong?!” I hissed under my breath.  
“It’s fun being wrong! But I’m right!” And then she downed my espresso. Swallowed it in one gulp, like an ordinary shot of fucking Jägermeister. Continued with Victor’s espresso. Both of them gone within two small hand gestures of one obnoxious bitch of a woman.  
"Ahh!" She sighed, first content, then wrinkling her nose. "...Ew. Why ya payin that much for that crap, buddy? I’m more of a Strawberry Frappuccino typa gal, to be frank with ya. Ya tryin to be cool drinking this bitter rotten shit? Men just like to take the fun out of stuff just to look more manly, you have such a sad life!"  
By now, Victor had locked eyes with me, showing a cold readiness that didn’t aim for de-escalation anymore. One word from me, and he’d go for her jugular, snapping her neck like a little bunny rabbit’s. But as long as she was under the protection of the Joker, that’d be a bad idea. Well, our location was probably inconvenient, too. He knew, I knew - and we were both fucking pissed bout it.  
“I get the feelin you’re a bit of a bummer today, Romy” Quinn slapped my shoulder, ew, gross. “How about ya chill out and hav sum caw-fee?” She got up and left as fast as she arrived. Hopping from foot to foot in her obscenely revealing overalls, like, what a slut? “See ya around, thanks for the expresso!” She chirped. Expresso. EXPRESSO.  
“It’s called ESPRESSO, YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!”

I was the only one standing in absolutely quiet luxury café. Everyone was looking at me and I could feel my face burning with anger and embarrassment. Slowly, I sank down to my seat again, and wish I could sink underground and disappear completely.  
“You want me to get another one?” Victor asked with that calming voice of his.  
“No, I think I need something stronger than coffee now. A stiff drink.” I held my forehead, sighing.  
Victor leaned in and whispered into my ear. He said, next time she’d be at the club, we’d slip something funny into her drink to make her really forget how to speak. For good, maybe. While Victor was speaking, his lips slightly brushed against my skin, and it tickled... I giggled at the thought, but gently declined his idea... for now... just until we’d have no consequences to worry about, like a notorious boyfriend who was feared all over Gotham.


	2. Have A Vagina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley gives Roman the tea regarding the female reproductive system.

The night was pushing 3:30am, often a boozy high point at the Black Mask Club. Everybody who’d come had come. Around this time, my VIP guests were laughing, drinking and enjoying themselves - floating in this ephemeral twilight between too sober and too drunk, an ideal time really. I myself was circling the tables with an elated gait and a whiskey in one hand, and inviting gestures dancing around the other. My little songbird Black Canary — fuck, she was looking gorgeous in that floor-length dress that hugged her thighs perfectly — she was performing her last song of the night, before we’d move over to canned music at increasing volume, just barely allowing conversation. Just so that my patrons’ hoarse voice in the next morning would remind them of the good times they had - you gotta make their bodies remember in case their minds forget. Everything was going well, and I enjoyed to soak up the atmosphere...  
  
“Ey, Sionis! I got a formal complaint.” A drunken croak sounded from behind my back. I turned around to see Harley Quinn almost stumbling into my arms, barely missing. Instead, she fell onto another patron’s lap. She grinned at the guest, a high-class woman, even though the she awkwardly scooted away and tried to ignore the intrusion. Fiercely focused on continuing the conversation with her companion.  
“Ya restrooms aren’t really vagina friendly, ya know that?” Quinn whined, struggling to sit straight and failing. The two patrons next to her were clearly impaired in their enjoyment due to the interruption. I invited them to another nearby seat and ordered them a complimentary bubbly to make up for that ruckus - before sitting down next to the sprawled out Quinn. I moved an abandoned mojito out of her grasp. It was clear to see, wow, she was blackout drunk. Shitfaced! Couldn’t she do that in the shitty Iceberg Lounge, maybe, instead of my quality club? She’s talking about that other place ALL the time, like she’s just trying to piss me off, but in the end I seem to be the one always getting her bad trips and the trail of chaos she leaves behind. So she’s either bullying me personally, or she’s a big fat liar about her preferences for a night out.  
“Oh, whatever do you mean?” I feigned interest. “There are two toilets in the women’s restroom, stalls for privacy, always kept up to standard when it comes to hygiene. We even offer a condom vending machine and these chewable toothpaste tablets, so there’s that.”  
“A CONDOM vending machine, what, like that goes on a pussy? That’s penis stuff, man!” She spread both her arms on the backrest, almost putting an arm around my shoulders. I calmly shoved it off, putting my arm there instead. She gave me a squint, yeah, I know this is a power play, Quinn. Glad to see you’re not too drunk to realize that. I smiled patiently, raising my brows.  
“I’m not following... what bothers you now?” I leaned back, chuckling to myself.  
“Well, what if a lady finds herself in her monthly predicament?”  
“Her... what?”  
“You know, a visit from Aunt Flo? Shark Week? Bloody Mary? I’m talking about MENSTRUATION, by the way.”  
“Ew.” I took my arms back and crossed them.  
“IT’S NOT EW, IT’S NATURAL!” I could’ve sworn she had almost jumped up to make a scene, but instead she grabbed that out-of-reach mojito and chugged it in one angry gulp. “Ya got some nerve, going all ‘ew’ when I KNOW what ya do after work with ya little buddy over there. You guys are covered in the blood of your enemies on a regular basis. Bet it turns ya on.”  
She nodded over my shoulder and I looked around briefly - she was referring to Victor who was leaning against the wall, observing us from a little distance.  
“Firstly...” I explained. “That is a lie, as I avoid getting any kinds of body fluids on me and my luxury brand suits, thank you very much, secondly... it’s not THAT kind of blood! Gross!?”  
“It’s not gross, it’s common! Half of Earth’s population will regularly get it at some point in their life, so why is it so hard to be a teeny tiny bit considerate? You provide condoms! You don’t NEED sex, but menses are unavoidable. Check your priorities, buddy! What if a menstruating gal walks into your club and wasn’t expecting it?”  
“Well, that’s not my problem, now is it? I don’t know, they should go home and eat chocolate and watch a rom-com? They’re not supposed to be in my club if they’re bleeding all over the place. My seats are expensive.”  
“OH. How... DARE YOU...”  
Her anger amused me. Even if she’d complain to her boyfriend about this, I doubt the Joker would share her sentiment. She was getting all worked up over nothing. She was all on her own with this one. Stupid drunk bitch.  
“What?” I snickered, waving it off. “If you’re in pain, stay home or shut up and have a drink. I have lower back pain sometimes but you don’t see me complaining.”  
“You complained about that the other night! You where whining for a whole hour!! And kept bringing it up!”  
“Well it HURT and I needed to explain why I was just sitting around all night!”  
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. She doesn’t know how much my back can hurt! Does she have no empathy? Some people are just so inconsiderate!  
“WELL boo-hoo. Now imagine you’d have to deal with that, or worse, once a month.” Her face suddenly shifted, and she wore this patronizing therapist smile. “It’s actually not that complicated, you know. Just lay out some complimentary tampons, panty liners and maybe even ibuprofen. I figured you want the Black Mask Club to be a high class joint, and I thought, hey, I could give you some pointers to make it nicer for the ladies. Your female employees, too. I’m offering you help here, Romy.”  
This joke was starting to get old, talking about tampons like they mattered. I was getting incredibly bored by this topic and looked for a way to cut it short and get her to shut up.  
“I’m not putting female hygiene products in my restrooms like I’m some sort of welfare program. Pardon me for saying this, but I think you’ve had a drink too much, Ms Quinn. You sound like you’re some crazy feminist on a pussy war path.”  
Harley Quinn took a deep breath, eyes big, cheeks slowly puffing up. Wow, did that shut her up? I shut her up! And here I wondered whether she ever stops talking. Was she holding her breath? Had she lost it now?  
“Ya know, Roman Sionis, sometimes I get the feeling the only pussy you ever saw was your mom’s when you squeezed out of there and it shows. I’m not saying you gotta see a pussy to respect it, but I’m saying you never TRULY SAW the pussy as the person, you know. They’re not an object, they’re people. PUSSIES ARE PEOPLE, ROMAN.”  
Oh my god.  
“Please, could you quiet down a little bit...” I hissed.  
“PUSSIES ARE PEOPLE! PUSSIES ARE PEOPLE!” She started chanting.  
Quinn was out of control, and I would’ve hated to have her ruin the good vibes of the other guests, so I stood up and quickly signalled to one of my bouncers to escort her out. The broad mountain of a man stomped towards us, and Harley stood up, grabbing her purse and jacket stubbornly.  
“I’m leaving! No need to make me leave! Stupid pussy-hating club!”  
She trotted towards the exit, a little wonky on her feet from the alcohol clearly clouding her senses.  
“You’ll be back...” I mumbled.  
“I figured you just wouldn’t get it!” She yelled back over her shoulder. “So have fun with my little illustration of what happens when you DON’T offer a little love and care for pussy-owners! Worst case scenario! Care is better than clean-up, baby!”  
Oh. Oh fuck. Oh FUCK.  
“Wait, what? What did you say?”  
“Byeeee!” She left without giving any further explanation, grinning, beaming, enjoying her little victory. Which it wasn’t, of course. I’d keep cool, I wasn’t phased, I wouldn’t give her this.  
I immediately rushed over to Zsasz, almost not panicking at all. He was already moving in my direction to meet me halfway.  
“Boss?”  
“Quinn, she said something, said something about the restroom, oh no, fuck, FUCK”  
He grabbed my hands, I held still.  
“I heard. I will go check.” He said.  
“Yes, please, oh, but be careful!”  
“I don’t think there’s anything in there that will attack me.” He snickered and rubbed my shoulder to calm me down.  
“No but really, BE CAREFUL!” I whispered after him while I waited outside the lady’s restroom.  
  
He came back out not long after. On him was a blank face deprived of clear meaning.  
“And? How bad is it?” I asked.  
Deep confusion furrowed Zsasz’s brow and he tilted his head, puckering his lips. He took a breath to speak, stopped, and closed his mouth again. Oh god. I couldn’t get a read on why he was so speechless. Something so horrendous it even traumatized serial killer Victor Zsasz? I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would be. What a terrifying thought.  
“...That bad?” My voice slipped higher.  
“No, I...” He said. “I’m just thinking, maybe she was kidding. The lady’s room looked normal. I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, except for a broken shot glass in a corner.”  
“Really? Nothing?” I couldn’t believe it.  
“No. Nothing.” He shrugged. “Maybe tonight she wasn’t as bold as she always pretends to be. In the end, she’s a little dame hiding behind a big clown.” A broad grin spread on his face, showing off his two gold teeth. It was infectious, and I broke into relieved laughter.  
“Maybe you’re right! I was worried for no goddamn reason!”  
“You shouldn’t have to worry at all, let me worry about these things. Okay?” He lowered his chin, fixing his warm, dark eyes on mine.  
“'Kay.” I giggled, rubbing my neck.  
  
Later that night, or morning, considering it was 6:30am, we had retreated to my apartment above the club. I was in my comfortable silk pajamas, ready to fall into a dreamless coma. Victor had already passed out on the couch, I should probably wake him up so he could at least change into something that doesn’t crease. But first I’d freshen up, wash off my make up, brush my teeth- ... on my way to the bathroom, an odd reflection caught my eye. There was something on the floor by the bathroom door. Something glittery... liquid... there was something seeping... seeping out underneath the door?  
Disturbed, I took the handle, and slowly pushed it down... opened the door... turned on the light.  
The whole bathroom was flooded.  
The toilet was flowing over, clogged with wads of toilet paper, entire rolls!, and, oh god, bloody tampons. EW! The towels were smeared with clotted blood and blobs of tissue, just what the fuck was that, is that what period blood looks like? No, that can’t be, did she have an ABORTION into MY white towels?! How disgusting can somebody be?! Everything was flooded or bloodied or both, and full of used sanitary products. A fucking crime scene, but way more disgusting. The water damage!! The dirty water was pooling towards my feet, and I took a disturbed step backwards when it touched them. EW. EW EW EW EW EW EW!!  
Quinn had used MY PERSONAL BATHROOM. Not the club’s restroom! My... m-my.... I felt sick and stumbled backwards. Sitting on the ground in horror, I cried for Victor.  
That BITCH Harley Quinn!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Sionis' List of Grievances:
> 
> #2 "Have a vagina"  
> ...AND #3 "Trashed his bathroom"
> 
> [For more Zsaszmask content, find me on Twitter: [DrByr0n](https://twitter.com/DrByr0n)]


	3. Didn't Laugh At His Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley doesn't laugh at one of Roman's jokes and throws in a free therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just needed to add the Penguin at some point, so that's what's happening now! There are too many connections between Sionis, Zsasz and him to not explore it a little further. Since the DCEU doesn't have a Penguin yet, he's a bit of an own interpretation, a mix and match. 
> 
> Feel free to picture him as the upcoming Colin Farrell rendition. But at the time of writing, there's 0 information how that'll look like in reality. So bear that in mind! Enjoy.
> 
> [For more Zsaszmask content, find me on Twitter: [DrByr0n](https://twitter.com/DrByr0n)]

“Ugh, you know, my dear Mr Zsasz...” I said to my right-hand-man, an arm around his shoulders. "Whenever we come here, I’m can’t help but think, ew, this is a place where my PARENTS would go out for dinner, after an evening at the opera, to meet their rich socialite friends. So boring!” I sighed loudly, my breath condensing into faint white mist in the chilly air. “And what’s that music?”  
“I think it’s live music. There?” Zsasz pointed towards an elevated stage near the center, right above a pool with maritime creatures swimming around a little artificial iceberg. The stage was a ship cut from what looked like gleaming, solid ice that contrasted quite nicely with the black of the jazz band’s suits, I had to admit. They were playing cool jazz, wow, give me a break.  
“Oh, I see, a live band. Mr Fancypants got a live band...” I sneered. “We have live music, too. You know that we do!”  
“We do!” Victor agreed immediately.  
“...Hey, you think we could make space for a whole band at the club?”  
“Eughhh.” He shrugged.  
  
Ah, and there he was, the man of the hour making the rounds in his precious Iceberg Lounge. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, but he calls himself “The Penguin”. Awkward little shit, limping around in that tux did make him look like his namesake. There was no way he could take care of all his patron’s personally, not like I do. Looking around, it was clear to see that most of them had come here for prestige and business, a very cold ordeal. Quite literally too, it was way too chilly with those penguin ice sculptures lining a few areas. Got a theme consistency, but wow, very uninviting. I still preferred my own, more intimate nightclub, made for heated nighttime networking and spur-of-the-moment promises, rather than ... cold-hearted diplomacy. I just hate it when people take themselves so seriously. ESPECIALLY when they think they’re entitled to what’s mine! My patrons! My social position! Those are MY things!  
Well, at least my security guard is my property, and mine for good... My dear Victor used to be a bouncer at this club, an unexpected bonus in his resume when I picked him up from Arkham. Good thing this idiot Penguin had at some point decided to abandon him, leave him at the asylum. I gave him more than the Penguin had ever offered! From a simple bouncer to personal bodyguard, right-hand-man, hitman, private company... I mean, I know talent when I see it.  
  
Ah, finally, Cobblepot noticed our presence - and he waddled straight to our table.  
“Good evening, Mr Sionis. What can I bring my favorite, uh, colleague?” Cobblepot fawned with a sycophantic smile.  
“Good Evening to you, Mr Cobblepot.” I returned the smile.  
Colleague. As if we play in the same league... He’s a pawn in other people’s plans, at best a leech, while I write the rules with which I control East End. And soon, all of Gotham. Colleague! Just because he runs this... sinkhole... where rich socialites grab a drink because my club’s not open for the night yet. The fucking arrogance on that guy. I guess his club was SLIGHTLY bigger and SLIGHTLY better known and SLIGHTLY more exclusive, but that was an injustice I’d soon change.  
“Oh your best red wine will do. Impress me, darling.” I gave him an saccharine grin, squeezing my eyes shut.  
Zsasz was giving the Penguin a courteous nod and pressed his lips together in an awkward non-smile.  
“Oh, do you want that to-go and unopened? So it keeps fresh for the patrons at your own club?” The Penguin snarked with what he surely thought passes for charm. But as he realized that I didn’t find this funny at all, his face quickly changed to asinine friendliness.  
“Haha, just a little joke...” He chuckled nervously. “Of course, of course, right away. This one’s on the house! If you two lovelies need anything, I’m at your personal service. Naturally.”  
“Thaaanks...” I bared my teeth in an overly friendly grin. Fucking pretentious fuck, he’s been wearing that tux for two years. It’s starting to show signs of wear, he really has no self-respect or genuine style. Victor is SO lucky that I hired him, HE looks better dressed than his former employer now!  
  
“Make him fall.” I whispered to Zsasz without looking at him.  
“What?” Zsasz looked up from the table flowers he’s been playing with.  
“I want to see him fall flat on his stupid face and get laughed at in his own club. Nothing drastic. Just make the fat fuck fall over a rug or something... I mean, there are no rugs here, just get creative.”  
“Really? I thought you wanted to drink wine. He brings the wine.” Zsasz squinted, not quite understanding.  
“Just let it happen sometime during the night, ok? Come on, you wanna do it, right? It’ll be fun.” I beamed, poking his arm.  
“Sure.” He shrugged. “If you want me to, boss.” I grinned at him until I could get a little smirk out of him too.  
  
Oswald Cobblepot returned swiftly, carrying a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a towel and corkscrew to open it safely.  
“Ah, there you are again, Mr Cobblepot.” I impatiently waved for him to hand me the bottle, but he held it out of my reach, protective of the wine.  
“You were back so fast.” I cooed. “Almost like you had nothing else to do but serve us.”  
“I’m just making you my priority.” Cobblepot gave me this calm, flunkey smile while he uncorked the wine and swished it around to let it breathe a little. I could send a few of my men to shake up this place, if I wanted to play dirty, and he knows.  
“Well, good!” I grinned. “Good man! WHOOH, time to PAR-TEY! Right, everyone?” I exclaimed, grabbing the opened bottle from his hands. When I enthusiastically got up and spread my arms, looking around the crowd of Gotham’s criminal and social elite, I barely got a reaction. What a boring crowd. But some individuals looked in my direction and smiled in a way that was charmed, I’m sure. Yeah, I could already spot a few intrigued ladies that’d make it worth having come over tonight. My fitted suit was mezmerizing by itself, and would attract people like honey attracts flies. An Italian single-breast, single-button shawl lapel in eggshell, with floral embroidery all over, matched with a burgundy button-down shirt and a matching silk tucker.  
“Your wine glasses, let me fill them for you.” Penguin insisted at first, but in the end, I poured while he held the glasses, and I enjoyed making him sweat by not aiming that carefully.  
“That’s all for now.” I smiled. “Byebye, off you go. I gotta talk to some womenfolk in here...”  
The Penguin gave a nod and excused himself, probably nervous to get out of my sight. Or Zsasz’s sight, for that matter.  
I handed Victor a glass and we clinked them, toasting each other.  
“To the Black Mask Club! Oh, only a little sip, you know you gotta keep an eye out for me.” I told him.  
“Yeah...” He took that sip, more of a gulp really. And another, and another... his eyes fixated on mine, as if he was challenging my words.  
“Hey, hey, now that’s enough!” I chuckled and snatched the glass from him. He looked after it longingly, but I went ahead and downed the rest for him. He gave a little grunt. I needed my bodyguard sober, after all. He understood, he’s just a pouty boy sometimes... And so I headed over into the crowd of people, with a glass of wine in one hand and the bottle in the other. I knew Victor Zsasz would watch my back from afar, as always.  
  
Surrounded by a group of Gotham’s finest dames, I delightedly soaked up the attention of the fairer sex. It was a pity that it was slightly too chilly in here, so they were all decent and covered up. Still, pretty faces all around, and their eyes on me. I have a reputation that proceeds me, and even in the rare case of somebody not knowing who I was, they were quite easily taken by my natural charm. Well, look at me now, father, does this look ‘antisocial’ to you?  
“And as I presented this box to him— ” I recounted to the group. “— he was still pleading for me to forgive him. He didn’t mean to betray me, he said, and that it was an accident. I was about to give him a gift and he was still hung up on that! Can you believe it? Some people are just natural born BUMMERS, am I right?”  
The women chuckled with hands daintily raised to cover their mouths.  
“Oh, hey, don’t try to fight it, honey.” I encouraged. “I like a hearty laugh! Let it all out, ladies!”  
One of them broke into laughter, and I gave her special attention, a special smile just for her. I placed a hand on her arm and she didn’t move away, so my smile broadened. Time to look to the round again, but with my hand gently lingering... I threw a quick glance in Zsasz direction, and he was still sitting there, watching me. Seemed unalarmed. Good.  
“And then I said... well, I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d save your family’s skin! And I opened the box and he screamed! AHH-HAHAHAHA! ...Like, because it was right there, in the box! Their skins, peeled off and folded up like laundry!!”  
  
I didn’t know when Harley Quinn had joined the round, but she was suddenly standing right there too. And, to make things worse, she didn’t bat an eyelash. Pretty sure he heard the joke. Still, no reaction. She was standing standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. With her poofy outfit, this pose made her look like a snowman. Hideous clothes. Her lack of a smile: Also hideous.  
“What, does this not entertain you, Miss Quinn?” I smiled at her.  
“To be honest, not really.” She deadpanned. “You shouldn’t have to explain the punch line. Kinda requires some background info that the audience doesn’t have, so... that makes it super unfunny.”  
“Excuse me?” I stared at her incredulously, though not dropping my charming smile.  
“Yeah sorry, but as you know, I’m literally dating the master of comedy, the clown prince of crime, the literal JOKER, and you? You are a sad comparison, Romy.”  
“Well,” One of the girls chimed in. “It’s a bit dark, but I find Mr Sionis very funny... Like, he’s not really skinning people, so that makes it funny.” She was the big laugher from before, a pixie-haired 20-something wearing a little black dress, possibly Chanel, with heavy jewelry weighing around her neck. I liked that one. The other women carefully nodded and smiled, looking at each other for confirmation and confidence.  
“See, they are entertained. Maybe your sense of comedy is just warped by living with a psycho clown?” I offered, earning more smiles from the women.  
“Ya know, you don’t have to fake finding him funny.” She said to the crowd. “He’s got too many people on his hit list to add a random broad from some club. I know how it is, ladies, you have some guy crack an awful joke to impress you, and you smile and laugh out of politeness, to avoid conflict, and to save your own skin. Not because he’s actually funny. And I get it, it’s reasonable... but I’ll personally protect ya from any consequences in this case. You’re finally free to show your disappointment in boring average guys!”  
The group was starting to uncomfortably look at one another. Questions started to fester in their minds, I could smell it. The situation was slipping out of my hands, the good vibes turning sour. But they had JUST laughed about my jokes?! I am funny! Victor laughs about my jokes all the time, I’m a joke machine! But now that bitch Harley Quinn was poisoning their minds with her girl power shit!  
“He does skin and murder people, so, he’s probably more dangerous than your average gross guy.” She casually dropped. “But you’re safe with me, ladies!”  
The cute pixie-haired girl was carefully stepping backwards.  
“I, uh, have to go to the toilet. Awfully sorry.” She mumbled. Nooo! FUCK! Fucking fuck! There she went!  
“Yeah, me too.” Another one said. Great.  
“My friends are waiting for me over there... I should go check on them.” The next joined. Oh fuck me.  
And one by one, they dispersed and disappeared into the crowd. Gone. I hadn’t even gotten most of their names yet, let alone their numbers. How the fuck did Harley Quinn manage to make my life worse with every time she crossed my path? Every single damn time. Do I never get a break from this fucking bullshit?  
  
I stepped closer to Quinn, to tower above her. I was close enough for her to feel my frustrated breathing creeping down her skin. She squinted stubbornly, pouting indignantly, but didn’t step back.  
“Miss Harleen Quinzel... do you enjoy doing this?” I hissed between my teeth. “I was just entertaining these fine women...”  
“Romy, how about... how about we sit down for a chat, yeah?” She gently pushed her extended fingers against my chest to move me out of her personal space. Failing to do so with her fragile little lady hands, she eventually ducked away and headed towards a free table. She turned to me and walked backwards. She nodded towards the bottle in my hand.  
“You got a nice drink here. Come on, let’s drink?”  
“Sure, got nobody better to talk to now...” I growled and dragged myself over. I was curious where she’d go with this. If she was one thing, it was surprising. We sat down at a table with a few mountain avens and arctic bell-heathers in a translucent blue vase at the center. All the tables were decorated in that fashion, I just hadn’t paid attention to that until then. I now understood why Zsasz had been transfixed on them before. They looked nice, calming. I poured Quinn some wine, it was on Cobblepot’s bill after all, and downed another glass myself, to drown the frustration.  
  
“So, Romy baby, real talk.” She took a deep breath and supported herself with both arms on the table. She leaned forward, tits probably lying on the table now. Not that it was visible, with her polar bear of an outfit.  
“Romy. Is your relentless womanizing mixed with blatant misogyny a symptom of your mom not accepting your homosexuality or something?”  
I blinked slowly. That sure was unpredictable, so that was as expected. I leaned forward myself, tilting my head incredulously.  
“What?” I chuckled.  
“Ya heard me.”  
“I love women. I don't hate women.” This was ridiculous, why was I even explaining myself? “And I'm not 'gay', either! None of what you said is correct.” I laughed.  
“Yeah sure, you love women as decoration and trophies. As something to stick your dick into and to make you feel good about yourself. But I bet you don't love any of them. I bet you don't even love your own dear mum.”  
I stared at Quinn. Forget about smiling.  
“Can you STOP talking about my FUCKING mother?” I slammed my fist on the table. “No, I don’t love her! You're fucking right about that. But my parents have NOTHING to do with my love life! 'KAY?” I took her glass and threw it to the ground, where it shattered into countless pieces. “FUCKING...! You get that?! YEAH?”  
Harley blinked a few times, and slowly began to nod.  
“Well. Ya ever heard of Freud? His theories are bullshit, but sadly, that’s the example most people know. Conflicts with parents controlling the later relationships pattern and such... there’s at least a nugget of truth in that concept. So— ”  
“I’m NOT doing this for my parents!!” I screamed. “I’m just a passionate guy! And I was trying to network, okay?! What the actual fuck, why are you saying these things?!”  
“You sure about that, though?” She gave a lopsided smirk and moved my glass away from my reach. “You're pretty needy for love and attention, Roman Sionis. You're addicted, really, you can't help yourself. Sounds like a psychological hang-up to me... Or do you feel like its ever enough?”  
“HA! Why would I restrict myself? Is there a thing such as getting too much love? I don’t think so!”  
“Well, it can be dangerous. You do stupid things in order to be loved... trust me, I know... you can make yourself very unhappy if you’re addicted to love... and you make other people unhappy, too.”  
I sneered and leaned back. So this was what she was talking about. Nonsense. As always.  
“I think everybody is very happy about my romantic attention... the more people love me, the more happiness there is.”  
“I dunno. Your BFF seems to like you an awful lot, but you ignore that for all the chicks you wanna bang. Maybe you could be happy giving the guy a chance.” She squinted and nodded. ”You should fuck.”  
“My BFF? ...wait, do you mean Victor Zsasz?“  
“Yeah, who else? Don’t tell him I snitched, but I think he’s gay for you and you’re hurting him.”  
I snorted in amusement, palming my forehead.  
“Gay for me, huh... Oh, I think he can handle it.“  
“But look at him!!” She said heatedly. “Right there, over there. The way he’s looking over at us?” She nodded towards Zsasz standing next to the Penguin now. We observed for a quiet minute, and he looked over to us every now and then. He was talking to Cobblepot — strange, what were they talking about?— but whenever he was looking over, his dark brooding eyes were suddenly big and shiny. Pleading, full of longing. Our eyes met and I threw him a questioning look. He noticed it, even from the distance, and nodded. He briefly side-eyed the Penguin and rolled his eyes comedically.  
“He’s stripping you with his eyes AND giving you the puppy dog eyes.” Quinn tapped my arm excitedly. “You should at least give him some closure, the poor guy is pining day and night! And then you go around chatting up ladies! Lounging in front of him in those slutty silk gowns! Probably revealing your calves! Or worse, the supple outline of your half-flaccid dick seductively visible through the thin fabric! Scandalous! He’s probably dying of blue balls, the poor fella!”  
“Don’t mention my dick ever again. Or Zsasz’ balls, for that matter.”  
“Noted.” She gave a broad grin.  
  
“Well, I can hardly date my, uh, ‘assistant’, now can I?” I massaged the bridge of my nose, sighing.  
“Never bothered decades of disgusting men in positions of power? But this is gay, so at least it doesn’t come with the ugly gendered power dynamics. It’s cute, as long as it’s consensual. And I’m sure as fuck it sure would be. He’s crazy about you! Think about it, he is... kinda... cute...? If you squint.”  
“‘Kay, yeah, um... we can end this therapy session now, Ms Quinn.” I slowly stood up and started to walk away, towards Zsasz and Cobblepot. The Penguin made the smart move of recognizing when he was overstaying his welcome, and he was leaving just as I was drawing near. Zsasz, with a rush that almost looked like panic, purposefully stepped on Cobblepot’s gaiter mid-movement. And so he did stumble and fell on his hands and knees! Ha! Not his face, granted, but that was better than nothing. It got a little chuckle out of me and lifted my spirits. Cobblepot swiftly got up and fled, without further public attention. Slightly underwhelming, but anything that distracted me now was welcome.  
“Romy!” Harley yelled behind me. Ugh, was she following me?  
“We can’t end the session now! I haven’t even gotten into your obsession with masks yet!”  
I kept on walking, not looking back at her.  
“Literal and metaphorical! Black Mask Club? It's a metaphor!! It's the social mask you put on to hide the hurt baby boy who was never loved by his parents! Wait! Wait!!!” She yelled.  
When I arrived by Zsasz’s side, I turned around to bark a thinly veiled threat at her.  
“Leave us the FUCK alone, Harley! This conversation is over, unless you wanna take it somewhere else?”  
Zsasz gave her an intimidating stare to support my request. She stopped, sighed dramatically and nodded in defeat.  
“Well alright. I’m rooting for you! Go get him!” She whispered to Zsasz with her fingers crossed in front of her, which made me laugh.  
“See ya losers!” She said while hopping away.  
  
Zsasz slowly turned to me, lips puckered and eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.  
"What was that about?“ He asked.  
I shook my head, snickering.  
“Oh, a silly thing! Now, get this: She thinks... you have a crush on me!” I said.  
Zsasz blanked, with no visible change of expression. Then, his eyebrows tightened, before he raised them.  
“Oh. And what did you say?” He said, speaking even slower than usual.  
“I said that you can handle it.” I snorted. “...She has no clue that we’re fucking.”  
For a moment, we looked at other without saying a single word. The silence between us was heavy, serious, pregnant with meaning. But then I couldn’t hold it back any longer and burst out laughing. Victor joined me a few moments after. This was just WAY too funny. I put my arm around him as we had a good laugh together and wiped a tear out of the corner of my eye.  
“Hehe... heh... You sure though? No clue?” He asked with sudden concern. “With how often she’s in your apartment... SHE would know. Of all people.”  
“I know right?? No, totally oblivious. I’m so entertained by this! She’s so stupid!” I snickered.  
“Maybe she thinks there’s nothing between us because you talk to women so much.” He said, absolutely out of the blue.  
“Pardon?”  
“Oh, no, nothing.” He shook his head, looking around with widened, intense eyes.  
“I mean” I said. “This is good. If people knew, that would make us vulnerable. Imagine somebody targeted you in order to get to me! No, people can’t know that I care about you so much.”  
“Yeah. Right. Uh, should we try to make sure she wasn’t messing with you?”  
“Nah, it’s fine. Ha, her psycho talk... I almost forgot that she used to be a shrink at Arkham! How people can change.”  
  
I was about to turn around to mingle with the other guests again, but Zsasz moved himself in front of me, stopping me in my path.  
“We should go, boss.” He said, in that slow, slurred voice of his.  
“Huh, what? But the evening is still young— ...” I tried to pacify him and walk around him, but he stepped to block me with his imposing presence. He was leaning in, chest to chest, and stepped even closer, making me step backwards. When I almost stumbled, he forcefully grabbed my arm.  
“It’s not worth it, Roman.” He said.  
I must’ve looked rather confused, because he continued to explain.  
“They were faking it, they’re not interested in your stories. They don’t deserve to be entertained by you. Let’s leave this rotten place. Brings back weird memories.” He grabbed my other arm too, and his body heat beamed right through his sweater and my suit. God, his body temperature was always so high, like he was a murder machine running on a coal, burning from the inside... his grip tightened, and I grew a little concerned.  
“You know this is... business.” I gave a lopsided smirk. “I’m networking. Well, maybe networking with benefits.”  
He raised his eyebrows, expressionless.  
“Got a lot of pressure built up.” He mumbled quietly, so quietly that it was for my ears only. His nostrils flared a little, and it sounded like a threat more like an invitation, but I understood exactly how he meant it. He was... really upset. And it was startling to see, and also, kind of sexy.  
“Then again— ” I began to feel a little hot under my collar. “I think the crowd is now sufficiently made aware of the Black Mask Club as a good late-night alternative... let’s head back to my place.” I gave him a nervous smile and he immediately returned it, two times as wide.  
“Hm.” He hummed, escorting me to the exit with his hand not letting go of my arm. He slipped closer, guiding me with an arm around my lower back.  
  
Harley fucking Quinn. Whenever she enters the stage, things never play out as planned. She’s a chaos factor that makes my life so much more complicated. But worst of all, I can’t believe that this time, she might’ve been... ew... right about something.


	4. Broke His Driver’s Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little intermezzo from Harley!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't see THAT coming, did you?
> 
> [For more Zsaszmask content, find me on Twitter: [DrByr0n](https://twitter.com/DrByr0n)]

Hello everybody, now live from Grand Avenue, Harley Quinn with a little intermezzo! There’s no need to go into detail regarding this specific reason why Roman Sionis hates me. I mean, you’ve seen it! Probably! Maybe! Why are you reading this if you haven’t? Well in the rare case that you’ve started reading this without having seen the source, go watch Birds of Prey: The Emancipation of One Harley Quinn - the movie. They changed the name in some countries because people love me so much, so if you see “Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey” in a theater program, same thing! Me breaking the legs of Sionis’ driver, it’s all documented in there on the big screen, full HD color motion picture beauty. You can catch it in cinemas or on BluRay or DCs streaming service or projected directly into your brain via radio waves now. Whenever you read this, ya know, technology changes so fast! The movie is about me and my breakup with the Joker, and some other cool gals are there too! Way more engaging and relatable than this here, old Romy whining about me ruining his day all the time. I’m a highlight in his sorry life, he likes me! What is this anyway, his diary or a spec script for his own film? As if we didn’t have enough movies about psychopathic men doing bad things and blaming everybody else for it. Especially women that don’t fuck’em! Oh, I got a title though: Gotham Nights - The Emasculation of one Roman Sionis. How does that sound?  
  
Oh, just to get sidetracked for a second: I just couldn’t help but notice something. He always go on about how I’m stupid. I have a fucking PhD. I mean, I just act stupid, so people let down their defenses, and underestimate how much I control the situation. It’s fun! He’s the stupid one, but he doesn’t realize - and that’s dangerous! When you think you’re smart but you’re actually not. It’s espresso, yeah yeah, I know. But I was in a mood to piss him off! Also, expresso WOULD be a way cooler word, let language evolve! Dog? Nope, it’s doge now. Throw? Nope, it’s yeet now. Espresso? NOPE, EXPRESSO. All aboard the Expresso Train! Choo-choo!  
  
And like, he and his emotional support henchman? Come on. I know they dating, in one way or the other. But I’m giving them time to make it official, ya know, choose their own label. A little favor from bisexual to bisexual. Ugh, sadly I do believe that he’s bi, and not just PRETENDING to be a womanizer for show. Roman I mean. Doesn’t mean he’s not a misogynistic asshole! He’s so much nicer when he’s dating men, he should be gay for womenkind’s sake! Oh, they’re so cute together. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Victor Zsasz love anybody but Romy. Crazy about him, real physical too. I mean I guess he’s also super into skinning people, like sexually, for sure. Violence- and Sionissexual, yeah. Although I heard rumors he’s dated the Penguin in the past? Haha, right, I don't see it. Wait. Or maybe... he has a super specific type... like, criminal club owners who become his sugar daddies and enable his violent compulsions! He’s sooo cute with Roman though! OTP Alert. Probably my favorite thing about them, to be honest. Besides the cool apartment, the club, the parties and, ya know, the whole style. They’re psychopathic assholes, but, ya know, so am I!  
Anyhoo, catch ya laters! Don’t take Romy’s ranting too serious!


	5. Spoiled Lots Of Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley joins Roman and his 'BFF' for an involuntary movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert for Fight Club, American Psycho and The Game! I hope they're old enough that nobody really cares anymore.
> 
> Can you find all meta jokes, based on specific actors in the mentioned movies? :)
> 
> [For more Zsaszmask content, find me on Twitter: [DrByr0n](https://twitter.com/DrByr0n)]

Harley Quinn was sitting on my couch, mooching off my Netflix.  
Not even by stealing my login information, but by physically sitting in front of my TV, in my living room, wearing some of my pajama pants. The silk ones with a rich eggplant purple color — with a band to pull tight around the hips. Ew, gross. Well that would need a deep cleaning afterwards, or, you know, a trashing. This couch was still clearly located in my private studio apartment above the club — not a public place by any means — and I had no idea how she got in there. Again.  
  
“Okay, hey, hi.” I said. “WHO do I have to fire for this? I won’t punch the daylights out of you if you just tell me WHO the fuck let you in. Could you do that for me?”  
She happily waved, still casually curled up with her knees drawn to her chest.  
“Hello to you too, Romy! Thought I’d come by and say hey.”  
“Who was it?” I stomped closer.  
“Nobody let me in, I just kinda came in through the window!”  
“Good, I’m firing the front guards then!” I angrily punched a text into my smartphone, telling Zsasz to let them go for me right away. And not gently. “So, what do you want?”  
“Got cockroaches at my place and Mistah J needs his space right now.” She said.  
  
Well that was interesting. The Joker didn’t let his precious girlfriend sleep at his place? Sounds like trouble in paradise.  
“Oh, really? Have you broken up?”  
“Naaah.” She waved it off. “It was mutually agreed on, we just need sum space. Just sum time ta think. He’s deep in sum new plan right now and didn’t really like mah suggestions. Batman stuff, ya know how he gets about Batsy. We’re ab-so-lutely still a power couple tho, I’m just chillin’ with mah friends today!”'  
I sat down next to her, wringing my hands. Breathing in, breathing out.  
“With friends? And I am ‘friends’ in this situation?” I smiled.  
“Yeah! Ya got a cool place Romy, and you have all the TV subscriptions. Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, Disney+... didn’t know you were a softie like that.”  
I pressed my lips together and squinted.  
“I got it for Star Wars and National Geographic.” I clarified.  
“Sure... I’m not complaining. I’m just saying, I could see your watch history, and it’s not only Obi Wan and nature documentaries...”  
“Zsasz likes Disney movies, alright?”  
“Aww. What’s his favorite?”  
“I don’t know! I guess... Mulan? Lilo & Stitch? Oh, and Lion King, for sure. I don’t know. I’m more of a Beauty and the Beast guy myself...”  
  
“I FUCKING KNEW IT! Big scary Roman Sionis watches Disney movies!”  
“Oh SHUT UP, he made me watch them!! And they’re cultural corner stones, as if there is a single person in the world who hasn’t seen a few! And the songs are catchy, yeah?”  
“Yeah, totally fair point. I could go for a Disney movie right now. How about we re-watch Beauty and the Beast, if it’s your favorite? I can see why...”  
“Um, yes, well, you know, how about no? In fact, we already had plans for tonight, so you showing up uninvited is a bit of an inconvenience... like, a teeny tiny bit...”  
  
I was heatedly punching Victor’s speed dial into my phone and consequently heard a little buzz from nearby. Bzzzt, bzzzt... it was coming closer.  
“Victor, oh, there you are!” With wide open arms I stood up welcomed Zsasz as he opened the door. He picked up the phone, even though he had looked at the screen before he did, and must’ve seen my caller ID.  
“What’s up, boss?” He said into the phone, while looking at me.  
I walked over to him and took the gadget out of his hand, hanging up for him. I shoved the phone back into his pants pocket and playfully patted his cheek. He grinned.  
“Oh, is your BFF joining us?” Harley jumped up and down on the couch before she let her butt fall back onto the cushion. “Yay, pajama party! Ya got some kinda room service? Let’s get some popcorn and shrimp cocktails.”  
  
I don’t know how we ended up in my living room with popcorn and shrimp cocktails, mostly being stuffed into Miss Quinn’s greedy face. Zsasz sat on the armrest, chewing on some popcorn. Maybe we had hoped she’d go on her own when she had eaten enough. A small price to pay for a calm evening for two.  
  
“So... we were planning to watch Fight Club.” I began to small-talk. “It's one of Mr Zsasz' favourites apparently. And I know, I know, everybody and their grandma have watched Fight Club by now. It IS a little weird that I haven't. But I was in my late 20s, I was very into James Bond and foreign films at the time — classy stuff — not roughians blowing things up. And it seemed so overhyped.”  
“You’ll like it.” Victor said. “You like roughians blowing things up now.”  
“Oh I sure do.” I grinned and wiggled my eyebrows at him.  
“There’s a scene where some pretty blond boy gets beaten up. You’'ll like that especially. Gets beaten to a pulp. Beautiful.” Victor lowered his eyelids and mouthed the words like he was describing porn to me. He kinda was.  
“You know that Fight Club is actually a deconstruction of toxic masculinity written by a gay man?” Harley chimed in, mouth full of shrimps and tomato sauce.  
“....” I blinked at her, tilting my head.  
“Well I have nothing against gay men.” I said.  
“Oh you're gonna ignore the first part, sure.” She said. “Ah! And! Tyler Durden is the manifestation of the split personality of the narrator, he's not real! The symptoms of Dissociative Identity Disorder don't actually include hallucinating your other personalities, so this is more of a Neurotic Schizophrenia? But it's a film language thing, ya know, rather than super correct psychology...”  
Did she... did she just... that bitch just told me the movie’s twist ending! She just went ahead and said it.  
“I...I don’t give a FUCK about correct psychology! I can’t believe you just spoiled the movie for me?!”  
“Oh. Oops. I thought you knew.” She giggled sheepishly.  
“NO I DIDN’T know! AUGH, how am I supposed to watch it know, when I already know the twist! Now I gotta wait until I hopefully forgot you ever told me! Great, we need another film!!”  
  
I angrily grabbed the remote and browsed through my watchlist. Zsasz sat down next to me, curiously eyeing the list as well.  
“Guess we'll watch American Psycho instead, geez. It's one of these other films that I could gladly avoid spoilers for, for the longest time—"  
Harley took a deep breath, rushing through the next sentence like a compulsion: “He doesn't get caught for his actions and goes almost insane from the lack of consequences of his murders, which may or may not have happened!”  
I almost threw the remote to the ground, but Victor snatched it from my hands, resulting in me making a futile gesture of rage.  
“Can you SHUT UP for ONE SECOND??”  
“You really haven’t seen that one? Weird, thought it would be up your alley.” She snickered, unphased by my rage.  
“Stop film-shaming me, Quinn. I bet I’ve seen more stage performances than you have!” I hissed.  
  
Zsasz continued to browse for me, keeping the remote out of my reach. Even when I wanted to take it back, he gently shook his head and continued to click through the movies himself. Then I caught sight of another potential candidate.  
“Ah, wait, this one!” I pointed. “How about the film ‘The Game’? Seen that too, Quinn?” I crossed my arms and smirked, sure of my victory.  
“Yes!” She clapped her hands like an excitable child. “Nicholas’ life going to shit was actually all staged for his birthday, so that the rich bitch would learn how to appreciate life again. The only present for somebody who has everything: Learning to appreciate life again. His brother is still alive and all is well!”  
I sneered. She thought she had me again. Well, she was wrong.  
“Well, well, well. Joke’s on you, I ALREADY KNEW THAT MOVIE! And I watched it and I loved it because I had nobody spoil the twist for me beforehand!”  
“It’s literally called ‘The Game’. Ya never figured that was hinting towards something? Like, that everything was just a game?”  
“FUCK, can you SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UP? FUCK!”  
I threw a pillow at her and she just giggled, even though I smacked her face good. She picked up thee pillow and playfully raised it above her head, ready to strike back, but then thought better of it when I and Victor didn’t look so entertained by it.  
“Pillow fight later, got it.” She said sheepishly as she placed it on the couch again.  
  
Zsasz softly elbowed my arm and nodded towards the screen.  
“Let’s watch ‘Snatch’." He said.  
“Oh? What is it about?” I asked.  
He wasn’t going back on the film, so the description didn’t show. I only saw a small cover image in the list preview. Six men standing on white background, at the center, Brad Pitt with a pitbull on a leash. Above them, the film’s name in big, black letters, not capitalized. Not very telling, but they looked shady with their outfits and their glares. A heist movie? A dark comedy? The cover had a late 90s aesthetic, looking kinda techno rave probably without actually having anything to do with the music OR the scene. I’d guess it was from somewhere around 1999-2001.  
“We'll watch it and you'll see.” Victor hummed.  
Harley was rubbing her chin and scratching her head, probably trying to remember if she knew the movie, too.  
“Okay, but... what’s the genre?” I asked.  
“You'll see.“ He said.  
“Well, aren’t you making this suspenseful...” I drew little circles on his chest. “Come on baby, please, just give me a little hint...”  
“No, I won’t tell you anything. You’ll watch this film with no preconditions.”  
“Preconceptions.” I corrected.  
“Yah.”  
He was giving me this broad shit-eating grin, shaking his head. I was pawing at his chest, edging closer, almost climbing onto his lap. I gave him my pleading puppy dog eyes — and he clearly enjoyed every second of seeing me needy. Maybe I’d have to use more convincing methods to make him talk, but truth is, the movie was starting to slowly sink down my list of priorities. Obviously I didn’t really want spoilers, so I appreciated his stubbornness. I adored when he was being a little mean, but not too much, just playfully teasing... He wiggled his eyebrows, puckering his already gorgeously swollen lips framed by his rough stubble with that cute white patch. So kissable.  
  
“Well, I don’t think I know that film,” I heard a squeaky voice from the side. “But looks neat! I like surprises, let’s go, pals-o-mine! Movie night!”  
Fuck! I almost got a heart attack! She was still here!? Harley Quinn was still sitting on my couch, pretending we were the best of friends, waiting for us to snuggle up and have a cute pajama party together. Well if she wanted to braid our hair, she’d be gravely disappointed. I inched away from Victor, brushing over his shirt to straighten it from my needy grip.  
He gave me a piercing look with his lips pressed together. Oh yeah, I get it, he was at least as bothered as I was. His crazy-eyed gaze was asking: Is NOW the right moment to get rid of her? But I knew this’d draw the Joker’s attention to us, even if they were taking a break. No, too risky, not worth it... goddamn bitch and her political immunity... she’s got it all, fucking the guy nobody wants to fuck with. One day, she wouldn’t enjoy that kind of entitlement anymore...  
“‘Kay, Harley, honey? Why don’t you fetch us all some sodas or something? For the movie night!” I cooed in a sarcastically friendly tone.  
“But where am I supposed to get that? You’re acting like this is my home.” She huffed.  
“Well you are acting like it.” I said.  
She rolled her eyes but then jumped up to roam around my apartment a little bit. For a moment, I thought, hey, maybe she’d run into one of my few COMPETENT guards at some point (are there any, I started to wonder). After a little bit of silence, Victor and I nudged closer together again, just looking at each other. I put a hand on his cheek, trailing the curve of his lips. But before we got ANY further, that bitch ACTUALLY came back with a bottle of whiskey in her hands — my 50 years old Macallan! So she found and lock-picked my alcohol cabinet and grabbed the most expensive bottle from it... great. I’d have to remember to exchange the lock on that one.  
  
She drove herself down, right in between Victor and me, like a wedge squeezing us apart. Wiggling her butt in place all cozy and happy. He and I both awkwardly moved to the side to not cuddle with her too much, ugh, what a cockblock! She grabbed the remote from a wordless Victor and pressed confirm to start the film.  
“What?” She looked at us, first me, then him, then me again. “You look like you need to take a potty break before we begin. Ya got sumthin stuck in yer ass?”  
“Harley Quinn. Have you EVER stopped to REFLECT that maybe, just MAYBE-- ” I began, slowly raising from my seat in the onset of fury. But she slapped a hand onto my mouth, shushing me! SHUSHING ME! ME!!!  
“Oh wait, I DO know this movie!” She yelled, eyes gleaming and glued to the screen.  
“The diamond is actually in the stomach of-...”


	6. Ate His Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has one of the worst days of his life. Victor is missing and a meeting with Harvey Dent doesn't go as planned. And to make matters worse, Harley eats his lunch!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2 of the story arc "The Fight".
> 
> [For more Zsaszmask content, find me on Twitter: [DrByr0n](https://twitter.com/DrByr0n)]

My phone was ringing but I didn’t pick it up. I checked the caller ID and it wasn’t him, so why bother. I curled up underneath a soft blanket, amidst a pile of pillows. I was wrapped in a thoughtlessly mismatched outfit of a white t-shirt, my daffodil-coloured face-print pajama pants, and my burgundy silk gown. Not even tied, just somehow thrown on me to cover my shoulders. A large tub of ice cream was freezing my hands, but I still held it tight. I had a spoon or two for comfort, the rich macadamia nut Häagen Dasz melting in my mouth. When the phone stopped ringing, I tried to make another call. This time I’d HAVE to get through.  
  


* * *

This was already proving to be the worst day of my life, and it was barely after lunch. It surpassed:

  * The day my own parents disowned me and fired me — from the company they fucking owned.
  * The day I was bitten by a racoon that I just wanted to pet, because it was so goddamn cute — and got rabies.
  * The day I got blackout drunk on gin tonics at the age of five and got lost in the streets of Gotham until a ‘nice man’ brought me back home — for the right money.
  * Oh, and the day I realized I had gained five pounds due some medication I was taking. Oh my god, THAT the worst! But today surpassed even that, so, yeah, just think about that for a moment.



I woke up alone in my bed designed to accommodate at least two, at all times, ideally more. I couldn’t find my pillbox, which gave me a good little panic attack for breakfast. I sent my driver to fill my prescription, but it took him forever for no goddamn reason. Because he’s an incompetent idiot who can do ONE thing very well — driving — and that’s the only reason why I’m still keeping up with his shit.  
  
And to top it off, I had also had run out of cocaine, which would’ve been great as a little motivator for the day. Everything just had to happen all at once, naturally. Zsasz usually picks up the goods in person. And that dealer dame, she refused to have me send somebody over she didn’t know yet! Said she’d do that for her own safety! And I didn’t have the time or the patience or the nerve to wait. So I had to ASK AROUND among my employees, like a fucking commoner, until somebody could give me a hint where to find a quick hit nearby. It was in some back alley near my club, which was a rather embarrassing and filthy ordeal. Ew. And of course, the shit I got was overpriced AND awful. But I needed SOME kind of pick-me-up, wouldn’t I, so I took the risk like an idiot. Got an immediate nosebleed, of course. My nose and throat turned sahara desert and I felt so sore as if I had just snorted up crushed up glass. Maybe glass would’ve been a better hit with less of a headache and nausea as a side effect. I tried to wet my whistle with a bit of whiskey, but on an empty stomach, that only got me dizzy and depressed. Liquor and cocaine never mixes well with me unless I had eaten a large meal, ugh, god fucking dammit! I always forget about that. Victor would’ve reminded me!  
  
But I had to keep on going. I was Roman fucking Sionis and I could fucking well take care of myself. I had meetings to attend to, things to do and places to be.  
  


* * *

  
I dragged myself out of my studio apartment to have breakfast with my old friend Harvey Dent, but only on business. We weren’t the closest, but back in the days, we had a common friend in Bruce Wayne. To be frank, I only hung out with Harvey because he and Bruce were thick as thieves and Bruce was my only friend at the time. Funny story, our parents were pretty close (when his were still alive) — two rich socialite families enjoying their stupid fucking privilege together by hosting self-righteous charity events. So their kids were told to go out and play. God, this was ages ago. But I hadn’t met Harvey Dent to wallow in nostalgic memories of our formative years. I was looking to get his support in a certain business project of mine.  
  
“So you really want to sue your own parents. Old Mr and Mrs Sionis...” Harvey sipped his mineral water. He wasn’t only an old acquaintance, but also one of Gotham’s most famous lawyers — or shall I say infamous? He looked the part, wearing a tailored three-piece suit to a breakfast outing, while I was going casual, with a two-piece and a dress shirt with the top button undone. Naturally, this was a power move of me. The perfect balance of ‘intimidatingly stylish’ and ‘I don’t NEED to try hard for you’.  
“They have it coming!” I sneered. “You remember how they treated me? These classicist fucks, fucking arrogant homophobic pieces of shit? I don’t have to explain more, now do I?” I downed my champagne to swallow the bile rising up my stomach. Oof, I felt light-headed and irritated, kind of comes with the topic.  
“I remember you hated them, yes.” He said in between bites of his salmon stacked bread. “I’m honestly surprised they haven’t died under mysterious circumstances yet.”  
I had a good hearty loud laugh at this, but he only deemed his own joke worthy of a hint of a smirk. Harvey acted reserved and level-headed, like I remember him from way back when. And the couple of times I saw him on the news or in court. I knew he had some big unresolved anger deep within him, but he always swallowed it down. When we were kids, we had these roles in our gang: Harvey was the analyst, Bruce was the charmer and I was pure trouble. It was hardly a surprise that we ended up where we are now, coming to think of it! Harvey the lawyer, Bruce the philanthropist, me the crime boss. Well, except for the fact that I exceeded everybody’s low expectations for me. Suck on that.  
  
“I want to file a suit against Janus Corp's cosmetic branch.” I began to explain. “I want you to prove that they’re not sufficiently testing their products. I want a full-scale scandal with people’s faces melting off after using a bad batch of moisturizer. Can you do that?”  
He stared at me without a change of expression, which was quite the intense expression in itself. Oops, well. Maybe mentioning melting faces wasn’t the most sensitive thing, considering the way he looked now. Wow, it was hideous. Some desperate criminal threw acid into his face during a trial that didn’t look good for him. It only hit half his face, which suffered grave chemical burns. So now he was one half handsome goodie-two-shoes, one half deformed monstrosity. And he should be glad I offered him this job, because after the incident, things kind of went downhill for Mr Harvey Dent. Wow, looking at him gave me a real confidence boost, I’m so much better off. I’d love him to work with me on this project, so I could bathe in this comparative feeling of superiority more often.  
But the way he was staring at me now gave me the impression that he wasn’t sold yet. I wasn’t talking about him and HIS cosmetic accident. I was talking about melting OTHER people’s faces. Would he be that sensitive about it?  
“Faces... melting off? Is that something that happens?” His opened his eyes widely and pressed his lips together.  
“No. Not yet. My men will take care of it.” I leaned back, gesturing for the waiter to fill up my bubbly. More champagne, please, oh fucking god.  
Harvey’s nose drew into a disgusted sneer, while his eyes squinted for a brief moment — oh wow, he still did that! The ‘Roman has one of his horrible ideas again’ look.  
  
“So you don’t have any actual proof of corruption, but plan to CREATE a tragedy? And, I'm sorry, you think that's even necessary?” He eyed me. “Are you serious, this is what you called me here for? And why do you think I’d help you with that criminal scheme?”  
“Oh I’m not counting on your friendship points, Harvey. Don't worry about that. But I have money! Fucking duh.” I snickered. How was he not immediately on board with this? He looked like he was getting ready to leave, somehow insulted by my offer. Thankless fuck.  
“You need money, don’t you? You’re not getting a lot of cases anymore, I heard... I’m sure this isn’t related to your magnificent skillset and brilliant mind, but only... the thing. This.” I gestured at his face.  
“Wow, Roman. Charming.”  
“Well, you look like shit! Sorry about the incident, but you must admit... that thing in your face, I mean, YOUR FACE, probably doesn’t make it easier." I shook my head in pity. "Especially with the mental health problems? You can only afford to be crazy when you’re pretty, Harvey.” It was all on the news. That traumatic acid incident, mixed with old unresolved trauma I'm sure, had lead to him developing sudden schizophrenia, antisocial behavior and violent outbursts. Threatened, attacked, blackmailed people. People said it was almost like he had turned into two people sharing one body. And one was an unhinged psychopath with no respect for the law! So his nickname came to be ‘Two Face’, matching the psychological makeup and that half and half look. It did give me a quite some satisfaction to follow his decline on public TV... the former golden boy that everybody should aspire to be... delightful! I know, I’m such a bad bitch sometimes.  
  
“Actually...” He hissed under his breath. “I quit because I was disappointed in our legal system. I’m looking for other ways to enforce justice. More hands-on.”  
“Is that so. You looking for an internship with Batman?” I joked.  
“No, I think you know what I mean. You especially would know.” His dark expression was filling the blanks.  
“Oh, I like the way that sounds.” I clapped my hands and offered a toast, holding my glass of champagne towards him. He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and clinked his glass of water against mine. I downed the champagne in one long gulp.  
“So why not help me out with this? We could be great together." I beamed at him. "Watch out for each other. I’m willing to adopt you into my little family, you know, this wouldn’t be a one-time-deal if you don’t want it to be!”  
  
With him being in a vulnerable position, I had high hopes for making good use of his newfound criminal inclination. I’d pay him extremely well and gave him the chance to get some positive attention and prove that he was still worth something. Maybe find new clients in Gotham’s underground scene. He’d do it for exposure. But also for big bucks. But he still seemed to be so awfully stiff, looking at his food rather than me, so I casually steered the conversation into more personal matters. Become friendly again, get him more relaxed and willing to give it a try.  
  
“So, how’s the divorce going, Harvey? Got a new missus yet?” I asked, casually.  
“Bad.” He raised his eyes from the half-eaten breakfast, fixating on me from across the table. “It’s going bad. Why would you ask that?”  
“Just doing small-talk. I meant nothing by it.” I leaned over to pat his arm, but he moved it away from me. “Heard it was about you shooting blanks — there’s ladies that would love that! Want me to introduce you to some? I mean it, that’s not just a phrase...” I chuckled. An itch around my nose made me wipe it with the back of my hand — and I noticed my nosebleed had started again.  
“Ah fuck, excuse me...” I desperately tried to catch the blood before it would ruin my suit or the tablecloth, anxiously dabbing it with a napkin. So much fucking blood.  
  
“A new missus, hm? How about that cute singer of yours?” Harvey’s voice slipped into a deep growl, as if seeing the blood had awoken a shark inside of him. That was weird.  
“Not like you’d have an actual partner, you unlovable, lonely piece of shit.” He distorted his face into a smirk that seemed foreign on Harvey. It was alarming and fascinating to witness. “But I heard rumors that you’re into her. Nobody listens to her singing, so it’s not like she makes you money... so you probably wanna fuck her. Desperate little motherfucker. Trying to buy and blackmail people into sleeping with your ugly, unstable ass, as always. Because nobody would do that voluntarily.”  
'Ugly'... did that bitch Dent just call me ugly? HIM? Unlovable, alright sure, but I’m NOT fucking ugly! WHY would he-... Okay, calm down Roman, this must be what everybody talked about: Harvey’s second 'evil' personality. I had gotten through to him, that was good, right? I’d just need to navigate this conversation cleverly.  
  
“Harvey, what the actual fuck! No need to get vulgar, I was just asking how you were doing!”  
“You can call me Two Face.”  
“Oh, right, ‘Harvey Dent is dead now’, blah blah blah... Like that? Sure, I respect the name game. I get it. But I think ‘Two Face’ is a little untrustworthy in court, so we better stay with Harvey Dent in that context. Right?”  
“I didn't say I was going to represent you in court, you disrespectful piece of shit.” He hissed.  
“I’m offering you everything!! What the FUCK is your problem, Harvey?!” Alright, I guess he words coming out of my mouth weren't clever. Guess I was going for a straightforward communication instead. Fuck, my head was buzzing with the mix or cocaine and alcohol, and my heart was racing. Ugh, everything he said just made me so fucking ANGRY.  
“Ever since we’ve sat down to talk, you’ve been a pain in my ass." Harvey said. "I can see it in your eyes, Roman. Your arrogance, and how you think you’re better than me and that you can buy me. You’re not trying to do anything for me, you’re playing games for your own amusement.”  
“You’re being needlessly paranoid.” I sneered.  
“That’s rich, coming from you.” He smirked.  
I was starting to get real sick and tired of this. I was really trying my best, and he was being an ungrateful bitch. I was tired and felt like shit and I played with open cards, no games, no hidden tricks, just a genuine fucking offer. I hated when people didn't see what was best for them. How dared he. HOW!  
“I’m not surprised your wife left you.” I mumbled. Which was probably uncalled for, but his whole behavior was uncalled for. So it was basically absolutely his own fault.  
  
For a moment, his eyes widened with a craziness that sent shivers down my spine. But he didn’t do anything. He had a quick glance around and motioned me to come closer. He lowered his voice and said:  
“I have a gun in my pocket and I could shoot you right now. I probably should. Just for daring to mention my ex-wife.“  
I stared him in the eyes, trying to gage the reality of the situation. He was suddenly a lot calmer than before. I had a really bad fucking feeling about this. Zsasz — if he had been here, he’d already make a move, make sure there was no gun, and if there was, that it wouldn’t harm me. He’d de-escalate the situation, give Dent a little lesson, and bring me home safe and sound. But he wasn’t here. FUCK! And my driver was a fucking IDIOT. He was sitting at a nearby table and not even paying attention, doing something on his phone.  
I felt the shaft of a very real firearm nudging my knee under the table. FUCK!!  
  
“Well, Mr Two Face...” I hated this, to be forced to be careful, play nice — I was supposed to be in charge of the situation! I had the money! He was just a jobless bitch with a fucked up face!  
“Think of the money, you fucking unstable fuck.” I hissed sweetly. That did the opposite of calming him down, but what can I say.  
“I don’t give a shit about money. Don’t act like you’re just trying to be a good guy. I know what you did. I KNOW that you were involved with what happened with my wife. You ruined my marriage and now you want to pick up the pieces.”  
I blinked in disbelief. I truly had no idea what he was talking about.  
“What? What the fuck, who said that?”  
“Oh come on! Don’t you know who she’s seeing now? Paul Janus... Ring a bell?”  
“Huh, my cousin?”  
“YES. YOUR FUCKING COUSIN IS DATING MY EX-WIFE." He jabbed the gun against my knee so hard it would likely bruise.  
“WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WAS INVOLVED IN THAT, YOU STUPID FUCK??” I noticed our ruckus was drawing attention to us, so I lowered my voice. “I’m barely talking to anyone in my family!”  
  
“Really? No idea why you'd have a motive? You always hated me for being Bruce’s best friend while you two couldn’t figure your shit out. And your parental issues. You’ve probably always waited for a chance to ruin my life, even if it took you over 20 years.”  
“You’re delusional, Harvey! I don’t give a shit about Bruce Wayne anymore!”  
“Anymore!”  
“Oh come on!” I rolled my eyes.  
“You know it!” He grinned. “But I’m not stupid. I know you usually have your guard dog with you, that knife-wielding serial killer. A little birdie told me that he wouldn’t be around today. So guess what that means? I’m still smarter than you, Roman.”  
I jumped up in a rage that blinded me to everything around me. The other guests, Harvey, the gun. Somebody betrayed me. Somebody I OWN betrayed me!  
“WHAT?! Who the fucking FUCK was that?!! WHO?! I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL THEM— ”

A muffled gun shot. Guests jumping up in panic, scrambling towards the exit. An excruciating pain setting in, slowly, dulled by adrenaline. I reached for my thigh and then looked at my hand. Blood. Oh, right, that could be from my nose bleed. I touched my leg with the other, clean hand. I raised it just enough to look at it... And again, it came back red. That shot had been aimed at me. Harvey Dent shot me in the fucking leg. My leg was bleeding and had a fucking bullet stuck in it.

“FUCK... HARVEY, YOU FUCKING BITCH!” I shrieked, slowly stumbling backwards, looking around for my driver.  
“Ah damn. I was aiming for your crotch.” He said in that calm, low hum. He took a coin from his pocked and flipped it. As it flew through the air, a smile spread on his face.  
“Heads, I try again. Tails, you get to limp home like this.”  
“FUCK YOU!” I screamed. “Fuck you, FUCK that shit, you can go to FUCKING hell! It’s YOUR loss, Harvey! YOUR LOSS!”  
When I turned around to run, I heard Harvey Dent laugh behind me. For the first time during the entire meeting. I think the coin landed on tails, must have, so I was spared another shot from his trigger-happy fingers. But that was way too fucking close for my personal taste.  
My useless fuck of driver finally picked up that the chaos was caused by something happening to ME and just helplessly followed me out of the place. He drove me to a hospital to have my leg treated for the fucking gunshot wound. The one thing he was good at. Getting me to places fast, no matter the traffic — even in Gotham’s lunch break rush hour. I swear, if he wasn’t that good a driver, I’d kick him the fuck out. At least he was appropriately agitated and repeatedly apologized all the way to the hospital.  
  
After he had driven me back to my apartment, I locked myself inside. Ordered double and triple security. My leg was de-bulleted and bandaged and I had picked up a whole fucking stack of ibuprofen, paracetamol, methadone and morphine. I started off with the morphine from the get go, swallowed a few, and washed them down with some whiskey. At this point, I was like, yeah, _this is where my life is at right now._  
Somewhere outside of this apartment was at least one traitor who had informed Harvey Dent that it was a good day to assault me, and I had no idea who it was. The mole, the snitch, the fucker. I had a gunshot wound in my leg, and my mind was in fucking shambles, destroyed by a horrid cocktail of cocaine, alcohol, morphine and heartbreak. I grabbed a tub of ice cream from my freezer, put my leg up and wrapped myself in blankets. And as soon as it all set in, the feelings of pain, fear, loneliness and overall physical misery... I broke into tears and bawled my fucking eyes out.  
  
My phone was ringing but I didn’t pick it up. I checked the caller ID and it wasn’t him, so why bother. When the phone stopped ringing, I tried to make another call myself. This time I’d HAVE to get through.  
  


* * *

  
“I don’t get it! How can he be such an unthankful fuck?” I yelled into the phone. “I offer him this job, you know he doesn’t get any jobs anymore, right? I offer him this job, for exposure AND for money AND for contacts. It’s fucking charity work. He should suck my fucking dick for this opportunity to become a member of my circle of influence, but no, HE SHOT ME IN THE LEG! You know I like to diversify, get some fresh perspectives in, I would’ve liked to collaborate! Why is he so stupid? ....anyway, call me back. Soon. Please.“  
  
“I think five voice mails are more than enough. Actually, I think he got it after the first one.” The shrill voice came from behind my back, almost sending me into cardiac arrest. I had shut myself in to be alone, but of course she’d find her way in. The day had come where Harley Quinn was more reliable than Victor Zsasz. Just kill me now. I didn’t even have to turn around, as she jumped over the couch’s back rest to sit down just besides my feet — almost sat ON them.  
“Quinn! Since when have YOU been here? I wasn’t talking to you, I was— ...”  
“I tried to call ya, but you haven’t been pickin’ up! I was worried about ya. Talking to your BFF, eh? Where’s the old sucker?”  
“He’s gonna be back inna minute, an he’s gonna show you the door...”  
My speech came out a little slurred. I felt so dizzy and confused I couldn’t even sit up without sinking back into my pillows again.  
“I don’t think so. Hey, by the way, just my two cents? I think you genuinely insulted Harvey.”  
“What?” I blinked at her.  
“Yeah, like, he’s a new person now and you wanted to hire him for that old shit.”  
“That’s not what you’re supposed to SAY!!” I whined and pulled the blanket up to my chin. “You’re supposed to pity me, but in a way that makes me look good!”  
“I’m _‘supposed to’_? Nah, I ain’t playin’ like that. I’m givin ya the tea, my friend. Ya’ll be grabbing brekkie with an up-and-coming Gotham criminal with a dissociative identity disorder — that’s when somebody is 2 or more peopler in one — and don’t bring any back up? Or a weapon? What’s wrong with ya?”  
That was a good question. What WAS wrong with me?  
  
Harley grabbed the tub of ice cream — and for a moment I reached for it and fiercely held onto it, but when I realized the morphine had really pulled a number on me, I lost all motivation to continue. She pulled the spoon from me like I was a weak-handed baby.  
“That is my LUNCH.” I whined.  
"Romy, you’re at an age where eating too much of the stuff makes you fat!"  
I wailed out in misery. I’d be fat and ugly in no time, if this kept on going like this! I needed a spa day, some mesotherapy for my poor stressed skin. The morphine and the crying were drying me out! I need a hit of Hyaluronic Acid! But what if they’ve been injecting something else into my skin all along? And it was actually accelerating the ageing process? I grabbed my smartphone to turn on the front camera to check and I immediately recoiled from the view. OH I looked HIDEOUS! I guess the puffy lips were alright, but the rest...  
"Come on. Relax. Let me help you with that.” Harley said sweetly, while gulfing down spoonfuls of macadamia ice cream.  
“Oh, nobody can help me now...” I felt the tears swelling up and my voice falter. “He’s gone. My baby is gone and everything is meaningless now.”  
“You mean your Rolls?”  
“No, it’s ZSASZ! You stupid bitch! My baby left me, probably for that fat fucking Penguin bastard fuck!”  
I looked at her. “...wait, what’s wrong with my Rolls Royce?”  
“Oh, nothing.”  
  
My confession made Quinn go silent. She stared at me in a shock I hadn’t expected her to be capable of when it came to the lives of others. She looked... concerned, of all things. She helped me to sit upright, supporting my back with newly arranged pillows.  
“Wait, what? Victor left you? Ya sure he’s not just out getting some cigarettes?”  
I wiped a sudden stream of hot tears from my cheeks and pressed my knuckles into my eyes. Stop your fucking crying, Roman, you fucking crybaby. Stop it!  
“OHH! He DID smoke cigarettes!!” I wailed.  
“Okay..."  
“And now I’m even missing his stupid ashtray-mouth kisses! Even though I hate them!"  
With one hand, she was still spooning up the ice cream every now and then. But with the other, she began soothingly rubbing my back. I flinched, since this wasn’t something I wanted from HER, but then accepted my fate. I sunk into myself, trying to disappear into the cushions, sobbing into my hands.  
“I bet there was a misunderstanding. Me and Mistah J constantly have that. He says ‘Harley, you crazy bitch, get out of my face. I never asked you to stick with me, I’m not made for relationships. This is stalking, you’re abusing me, yadda yadda.’ But like, he doesn’t mean it! So he kicks me out of the door, or out of the window, but then we get back together in no time. He needs me, we’re partners, we’re better together.”  
That egocentric bitch was making this about her relationship again. And I couldn’t care less! She doesn’t even start to comprehend what Victor and I had, this is nothing compared to her stupid gold-digging. Or whatever the equivalent of fucking for power is. She was in no position to speak, except for, maybe, she’d also feel as fucking lost and helpless if her boyfriend disappeared...

  
“So, what happened, Romy?” She eagerly rubbed my back and tried to meet my eyes. ”Tell me the whole story!”  
“Well...” I mumbled. "We... we had a fight...”

_(to be continued)_


	7. Crashed His Rolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman STILL has one of the worst days of his life. Where is Zsasz, what happened between them, and will he get him back? Which role does Oswald Cobblepot play in this? And will Harley Quinn's support make things better or WORSE?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 2 of the story arc "The Fight".
> 
> Get ready for a lengthy multi-perspective chapter that reads like a 90s sitcom. OOPS.
> 
> [For more Zsaszmask content, find me on Twitter: [DrByr0n](https://twitter.com/DrByr0n)]

**_VICTOR ZSASZ  
  
_** “Do you want to talk about it, Zsasz?” Mr Cobblepot asked. “You haven’t come by that often lately. Especially not unannounced and on your own.”  
He was acting like a concerned friend, my former boss. He was asking for the third time, but I wouldn’t tell him anything about the fight with Roman. I wasn’t hunting for a job, just spending the evening with people. Friends was the wrong word. People I knew. Cobblepot could see there was something going on, sure, but it wasn’t his business to know or mine to tell. Every leak of information was a risk, no matter if I was upset or not. He would like that, as Roman’s prime rival, but I don’t talk to people to feel better. I bury my feelings, blow off steam, and then they’re gone. Simple.  
  
“How would someone earn your trust?” I changed the topic, only seemingly, but he wouldn’t know.  
I took a sip of beer and had a few salted nuts. I looked at the bottle’s label and tried to remember if the boss had ever told me any interesting details about it. Couldn’t recall any. We were sitting in a storage room of the Iceberg Lounge. It wasn’t a place to host official patrons, but open for the Penguin’s special guests from Gotham’s criminal underground. Long tradition, probably as old as the lounge. Been around when I had just started out, too, same place, same time. But the other visitors hadn’t arrived yet, it was early. I hadn’t come on a schedule, but impulse. Nine in the evening, backroom dust and arranged clutter, dingy lamps, serving beer and not champagne — that was the mood. Like he intentionally designed it to be shady.  
It’s been a while since I had joined in (too busy to be on the watch for Roman) and I was looking forward to a way to pass time. I didn’t have my knife on me, so more delicious plans were out of the question. And I wasn’t stupid. Even though I would love to blow off some steam in the way I liked best, I wouldn’t do anything that would make my boss more agitated when we were reunited. I’d have to wait. Even though, looking at Mr Cobblepot now, I couldn’t help but imagine it. Slicing the sharp blade along his chin, slow and precise, until it came loose enough for me to give it a pull and yank it off with him screaming. This wasn’t even personal, no hard feelings anymore. He was just a tool for my thrill, a random inspiration based on him being there right now. Fuck, my fingers were itching for it. It was good that I left the knife, really good. This would be the first night in a long time that I didn’t stay over at Roman’s apartment and already I was daydreaming about what I’d do as soon as we made up again... I’d get him so riled up and angry, filter out a random person who wronged him, fuck that person, who cares, just so I’d get a little session, as a treat. See him happy, see me happy. Rip some people’s faces off. I got a little hard thinking about it.  
  
“Um, how would someone earn my trust, let me see...” Mr Cobblepot hummed, oblivious to my thoughts. “Trust comes from being consistently reliable and co-operative, I think. Somebody who keeps my best interests in mind, even when they’re pursuing their own hustle. But that’s a very philosophical question in our line of work, you know that... No offence, but YOU were a bit hard to trust, because YOU did things in your free time that got ME into trouble.”  
I wasn’t doing that with Roman. I was a good boy. I was trusthworthy, wanted to be trustworthy. For him, but him alone.  
“Why, what’s going on?” Penguin insisted. “Are you trying to suck up to me, or is something the matter with Roman? Where is he? Should I be concerned that he’ll accuse me of stealing his bodyguard?”  
I shook my head. Nothing to worry about. That’s what I signalled him, not what I thought.  
“Do you want to play Black Jack? Until the others arrive?” I asked.  
“Listen, we’re both not strangers to the hustle. If you’re here to get information, maybe I’ll happily provide them just to make life easier for the both of us? No need to play games.”  
“No, I want to play a game. I’m bored. Maybe Durak? Or Bastard? How did you call it... ‘Stop the bus’?” I drank more beer. Penguin shook his head and smiled a little, clearly a bit overwhelmed that I had shown up. I smirked and it made him nervous. Good, that’s fun. I winked at him and grinned. I could basically see the beads of sweat form on his forehead, but he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Even better.  
  
He began to talk about something, small-talk, about the news, the weather, gossip. I nodded and hummed, but I didn’t quite listen. I thought of the fight. I went through our last conversation over and over again, trying to figure it out.  
  


* * *

I had returned to Roman’s apartment in the late afternoon, after having taken care of some things for him. And some more. He didn’t notice me at first, he was talking on the phone. So I walked up to him real slow, sneaking. When I was already breathing down his neck, enjoying the view of his trimmed and perfumed nape, I spoke up.  
“Hey, boss.” I said right into his ear. He jumped, shrieked and almost dropped the phone.  
“Zsasz! Fuck, you scared me, haha! There you are!” The shock on his face quickly turned into delight. I grinned back when I saw his happy face. He put a hand on my arm and immediately gave me some updates. I could sense he has been waiting for somebody to talk to, and now all the words bubbled out.  
  
“Tonight’s DJ cancelled last minute! What am I supposed to do now, prepare my own set within two hours? Go on stage and sing myself? I mean, I could, but... Black Canary has the day off, but maybe I can get her for twice the salary. Ugh, how needlessly stressful... I really need some relaxation now.”  
He looked at me, behind me, and made a twirl to look around his apartment.  
“Where’s my masseuse, Zsasz? I told you to pick her up from the parlor.“  
“Oh. That. I couldn’t let her come.” I replied with neutral professionalism.  
“What? What happened?” He was confused, I could see that.  
“I had to get rid of her.”  
“You fucking what?” His confusion got drastically worse. “No, that’s a joke, right? You got rid of her. HOW rid of her? My fucking MASSEUSE?!”  
“Funny story...” I mumbled, shrugging. “I told you I didn’t like her. Right? So... I found out she was changing employers very often. Went from parlor to parlor. So... turns out... she frequently blackmails clients with sensitive information she steals when visiting their homes. And she found a list of your prescriptions, boss. Somebody could’ve used that against you. But she wanted to blackmail you first, so the secret is safe, I got the list, and she’s gone.”  
He’d understand, I thought at the time. I did a good thing, after all. I revealed a betrayal against him, made sure he was safe and took care of it without putting the extra stress on him.  
  
“HOW gone is she, Zsasz?” He stared at me in a way that made me realize he wasn’t happy about this.  
“Very.” I confirmed.  
“OH MY GOD. Without... without asking me? YOU KILLED SOMEBODY I OWN WITHOUT ASKING ME? That was my masseuse! I needed her!! Oh, and she wanted to blackmail me? I trusted that woman to see me naked!” Roman started to walk around the apartment, his arms gesturing in agitation. I followed him, tried to pacify him.  
“I know. Awful.”  
“But I NEED my massage! She was SO GOOD! Do you know how hard it is to find that good a masseuse? Are you sure about all of this? Maybe we could’ve figured something out! And I need a massage NOW!” Roman’s voice was shrieking high. His hands were formed to fists and there was a vein pulsating on his temple. Oh no, he was really upset about this.  
“I can... I can massage you, I can learn it.”  
“NO! What? You think you can make up for something like that by offering me a back rub? You... oh my god. You killed another employee behind my back. Victor, you fucking psychopathic fuck!!”  
I drew my brows together, not liking the way he began to insult me. But my aim was to make him calm down, so I ignored my own feelings about the situation as well as I could.  
  
“You’re just like everybody else, aren’t you?” He laughed, desperately. “You only listen to me when it suits you, you’re not really loyal to me. You’re a fucking wild animal, and I was probably stupid to think I could tame and own you.” Roman stared at me. And he suddenly seemed so distant, flinching away from me as if I wanted to hurt him. I walked towards him and tried to grab his arm, but he ripped it away from me as if the touch disgusted him.  
“No, don’t touch me. You betrayed me, Victor. You killed somebody I owned, without asking me. Next up, you attack me, huh? You wanna take my place or something? Find out my weak spots and then attack where it hurts?” There was a terror in his eyes that he usually doesn’t have looking at me, and I hated that.  
“No! I didn’t betray you. I ignored one of your orders and solved a problem for you instead. For your safety.” I assured him, trying to get closer to him. But he was edging away from me until we were in the kitchenette.  
“You don’t get to decide what’s a good idea and what’s a bad idea!!” He took a plate and threw it to my feet to make me walk away from him. I dodged it, looking at him in confusion. It shattered into pieces, littering the floor in shards.  
“I’M the mastermind!!” He screamed. “You’re just a fucking henchman! How dare you, fucking ungrateful piece of shit!! Making decisions on MY behalf?!” He threw another plate, higher this time, and I dodged that one too.  
  
“You’re nothing without me, don’t you fucking forget that.” He growled, bearing his teeth. He was seething with anger, and it made me angry too. “I got you out of Arkham like a rabid stray dog who was about to be put down. Probably saved your fucking life! And I gave you something to do. I gave you proper clothes, taught you some manners, gave you social standing. You depend on me, you fucking bitch. I made you. Just because we’re fucking, doesn’t mean you have any RIGHTS.”  
I blinked at him, feeling my breathing grow heavy. That hurt.  
  
“I depend on you? I choose to be with you, Roman. I could leave you.” I tried to be calm, but I heard it come out like a threat.  
“Then why DON’T YOU!!”  
I grabbed his wrist and he immediately struggled to get free. He punched my chest helplessly. It hurt, with his rings hammering against my tits, but pain never phased me.  
“Get the fuck out of my apartment! Just leave!!” He screamed, beginning to angry cry.  
“Ok, boss.” I obeyed. I let go of his hand and walked out of his studio apartment. On the way, I took out my knife and left it on the commode near the door. Disappearing for a while was a good idea anyway. I was boiling with anger and hurt, being mistrusted and insulted like this. I know he didn’t really think all that, but he was just trying to hurt me. But why? I had been so close to lashing out and using more force. And while I’d never hurt him, I wouldn’t even want him to feel like I could.  
  
After thinking about it for the third time, I think I recognized my mistake. I questioned his orders too openly. I was too blunt, got caught. It didn’t matter that I had done it in his best interest, to protect him and to make sure his reign would flourish. All he saw was that I was unreliable and disloyal. I understood that this was his weak spot. The imbalance of trust and distrust — he trusted the wrong people based on sympathy and the way he wanted things to be instead of how they were, and then got hurt over and over again. Now every sign of betrayal sent him spiralling, even if he just misunderstood. He should be distrustful of the right people... not me...  
  


* * *

 ** _ROMAN SIONIS  
  
_** ****God, that fucking leg was a fucking annoyance! Despite the morphine, it was just so uncomfortable to walk with!  
I stood besides the door of the backseat of my black Rolls-Royce and looked at Harley through the windows of the car. We both opened the doors on opposite sides and got in, awkwardly coming to a pause just sitting next to each other on the backseat. Nobody in the front. She just looked ahead, in awkward expectation. After I had recounted the fight to her, she convinced me that we needed to find Zsasz and talk to him in person. Apologize. Confess that I needed him, or at least wanted him. Nothing would happen if I just binged on ice cream and got drunk at home, or worse, go out and get myself killed. She said, if he’d see me in my miserable state, he’d come right back and spoil me with love. I was truly desperate and drunk enough to agree to her ridiculously simple plan. ‘You just need to communicate better’, that damn ex-shrink said. She made a few phone calls, probably a ploy to steal all my precious contact info at the same time. It was ridiculously easy to find out where Victor was, ugh, so that was embarrassing for me. The Iceberg Lounge. I didn’t like the sound of that, not one fucking bit. But Harley, the pesky bitch that she was, physically dragged me off the couch and forced me to get dressed and drive there. So we got that awkward situation of changing in front of Harley Quinn out of the way, too. By now, it all felt like drops in the ocean of HUMILIATION. She didn’t even leave me time to call my driver, whom I had sent home for the day. We need to go now, she said, or else it might be too late. Alright, alright! But we wouldn’t get far if we’d both sit in the back seat. Waiting like sitting ducks.  
  
“I can’t drive.” I squinted at her.  
She clicked her tongue, laughed and slapped her own forehead.  
“Oh right, duh! I forgot about that for a second.”  
“You knew I don’t have a driver’s license? Who told you that?”  
“You what? Oh no, I just figured this was about your fucked up leg. Bullet wound. Also, you’re on something, right? Not judging or nothing, but you’re at least drunk. I can smell that all the way over here.”  
“Oh.”  
“...You don’t have a driver’s license?” She snorted, daintily covering her mouth to giggle.  
“Driving is giving me panic attacks, okay? I used to have one but I got some DUIs and forgot to renew it. And then it wasn’t necessary anymore, you know?"  
“Oh man, Romy, you’re really opening up to me today. You’re telling me about your boy trouble, get changed in front of me, now trauma and fears! I didn’t know I’ve unlocked this level of intimacy in our friendship! Ok, let me think, what can I offer you in return... oh, I was actually scared of clowns when I was a kid, so in order to conquer my fear, I BECAME THE CLOWN. And fucked one.”  
“Is that so?” I asked with the least amount of interest I could fathom.  
“Yeah, funny story, right? And another one: I’m not a natural blonde! I mean, you probably noticed with your keen eye for fashion and beauty procedures. You know why I dye my hair? When I was in a really bad place many years ago, I listened to Rod Stewart’s ‘Blondes have more fun’ and I figured, well, let’s give it a shot! And reclaiming agency over my own body gave me the tiny bit of optimism to push through the hard times. So now I have this absolutely silly superstition that when I stop dying my hair blonde, my depression will return with full force! But I’m really trying to reduce the bummer times, ya know?”  
“Fascinating.” I’d have to stop her if we wanted to get anywhere today. “Now, can you drive me? My driver wouldn’t be here for the next hour, he’s got a bit of a commute.”  
“Me, driving you? In your Rolls-Royce? Oh baby, I’d do anything for a joyride in this thing. I’ll drive you anywhere you want.”  
“Good. Please, be careful. It’s really fucking expensive, and I love it like a child. In case you couldn’t tell.”  
“Sure thing, Romy. I’ll ride this sleek panther through the urban jungle, no problem. I’m taming the bad boy. Meow!”  
“It’s a car, not a wild animal. Just... just drive, can you do that? My Rolls will be co-operative, I promise.”  
“Aye aye, sir!”  
  


* * *

 **HARLEEN QUINZEL  
  
** One hell of a joyride through scenic Gotham later, we arrived at our destination! Romy looked a bit queezy, frankly speaking, and I couldn’t blame the guy. We were about to make a big entrance to get his beloved psycho boyfriend back. I remember how nervous I was before MY first time! Oh boy, my heart was racing, for sure. Explains his pale complexion. Maybe my driving style didn’t help all that much, but we were in a hurry. Who knows what could happen in the meantime. You never know with guys! So there we were, parked in the back of the Iceberg Lounge, debriefing like pros.  
“So, what’s the plan? I have some smoke bombs on me, if you want a big entrance.” I said. “Didn’t write you a speech, but I figured you’re never short on words. You’ll handle it.”  
Roman rubbed his injured thigh, gave me some nervous side glances and I could swear he almost didn’t seem quite as pumped as I was.  
“Bring him out to me.” He said.  
“Huh? But what if he’s right there behind that door? Don’t you want to talk to him in person asap?”  
“I’m in a really bad shape. Who knows what’s waiting for me in there! Maybe it’s a trap! You said yourself that I shouldn’t walk into situations unprepared, without backup or guns.” The way he was avoiding my eyes made it pretty damn clear that he was scared shitless. Probably of his own emotions. Aw man, poor guy.  
“Oh, so you’re sending me in instead?” I sneered.  
“Yeah?” He nodded and gave me a sarcastic open grin. “I’m not... I’m not ready to do this! I just need a minute, ‘kay? I’ll come right after you, but clear the scene for me.”  
“Alright... but only because it’s you, Romy! And I wanna support ya!” I sighed. Of course it’d be up to silly old me again. He should be thankful he had a badass friend like me!  
  
So I got myself in front of the Iceberg Lounge’s back entrance. Romy looked at me from the car with anxious anticipation, but I gave him a thumbs up and a confident wink. I pulled up my bra straps and adjusted my cups to get the girls secured, before I kicked the door in.  
  


* * *

“PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!” I yelled aggressively, just as a precaution, even though my eyes hadn’t even adjusted to the darkness yet.  
“Miss Harley Quinn! To what do I owe the pleasure?” I heard somebody say. Ah, it was the Penguin! And he was staring at me from across the room.  
I surveyed the environment — and, well, fuck me! NOW I understood why Romy sent me in first! Mind you, there were no guards to surprise me, no traps, no weapons, so that wasn’t a problem. Just a small table in a dimly lit room, a low-hanging lamp spotlighting playing cards, many empty bottles of alcohol and the two men who sat there: The Penguin and — bingo! — Victor Zsasz. The latter was casually, incidentally, entirely BUTT-NAKED. OOPS. Ah, except for his briefs, so, his butt wasn’t naked, just all of the rest. But geez, what a fucking scene! And I know what you’re thinking, that’d be my first concern too: Did Victor cheat on Roman with his RIVAL the Penguin?! That would break poor Romy’s heart! AND I WAS ROOTING FOR THEM! I’d beat that Penguin fucker up if that was true, for sure, I’d kick his ass for getting in between such a beautiful romance. I’d probably beat up Victor and Roman too, for being such idiots, but Penguin would come first. He KNEW they were a couple!  
  
“Wow. Look at that. Seems like I interrupted something just in time...” I casually walked up to the two, but my smile made clear that I wasn’t in a friendly mood.  
“Unless your kink is having sex with your clothes on, Penguin, and you were already in the middle of it. Huh, now that I think about it, you DO look like this could be your fetish.” Looked like my words made the guy nervous, that homewrecking fucker. So nervous he stood up to literally stand up for himself.  
“We were just playing a game!” He protested. “Also, what’s it to you? Your boyfriend has left some hours ago, he should be home. And if he isn’t, I don’t know where he is.”  
Oswald tapped the table, signifying he wouldn’t bet money on this round. So did Victor, following the move. Oswald placed another card in the lane — so they were playing poker.  
  
I walked around them, circled them like a shark. And we know how penguins feel about marine predators.  
“I’m not here for MY partner!” I cackled. “I’m here for Black Mask’s partner!”  
There was no reaction from Zsasz except for a a focused gaze on his cards, which was a little peculiar. Has he been drugged? Or did he need all his brain power to memorize the few cards on his hand?  
“You’ve been sent by Roman?” Penguin squinted, shaking his head with justified confusion. “What does he...? Oh no. Oh... NO... This is an absolute and very unfortunate misunderstanding!”  
“Roman?” Victor whispered absent-mindedly, almost as if the name only resonated in his subconsciousness.  
“Yeah, I’m here on account of Roman Sionis. Your boss, Mister Zsasz! He wants you back, asap.” I tried to talk to Victor but he was just shaking his head, as if he could block me IRL!  
  
“I’m upping the ante.” Victor mumbled as he took off his briefs and placed them on a pile of money and his own clothing items. OH. Okay, so they were playing STRIP POKER. Well, that underwear was definitely picked out by Roman, black Dolce Gabbana briefs with some emerald green seams? Clearly Victor’s good ‘I’m fucking tonight’ underwear, probably a Valentine’s present by Romy. You can just SEE those things. Kind of a red flag towards this being a weird sex thing, oh man, this was an emotional rollercoaster.  
Now freed of this last protection, Victor was cupping his manhood to censor himself. Look at that, he really had scars all over his body. Without an anxiously drawn blanket to cover him, I got insights I never expected! Today must be my lucky day. Roman has good taste, phew, cute bod. And he didn’t even seem to notice or mind that much. I waved my hand in front of Victor’s face, but his eyes were GLUED to the cards in his hand. He gave a little annoyed hum but otherwise totally ignored me.  
  
“We were just playing Texas Hold’Em— ” Penguin anxiously tried to explain, clearly a bit out of sync because of the naked Zsasz. Who could blame him. “— and after a few hours of losing, he didn’t have any more money or valuables to give. This wasn’t even strip poker from the beginning! I was the only one who saw him like this, after everyone had already left — those are just the unfortunate facts.”  
I pulled in a third chair and sat down, eyeing Penguin, who sat down again, too. He put a few bills in the pot, following Zsasz’s ante.  
“Really, is that so? And why would I believe it?” I pouted and raised my eyebrows, leaning back on the chair with my arms crossed. It was time to examine him, make use of my psychoanalytical expertise to see through his lies. “So you’re telling me you wouldn’t have any interest in seeing this hot piece of hunky meat naked and vulnerable in front of you? He’s fucking sexy. And you two have quite a history, dont’cha? Now that Vic is desired by your rival, you want him back. It all plays out.”  
“You’ve got to believe me, Harley!!” Cobblepot pleaded, hastily cracking open a cold bottle of beer for me and shoving some salted nuts in my direction. Oh, those were the good ones. “Especially because Roman never would! We both know how paranoid and jealous he is. But there is really no reason to be upset. Harley, don’t tell him about this, I’m begging you! Here, uh, take your clothes back, Zsasz. Keep some dignity. Get dressed, please. Let’s end the game.”  
Penguin picked up Zsasz’s undies with the tips of his fingers, as if they were dangerous somehow, and flung them over into his lap. He did the same with his pants and his undershirt, which had been piled with his winnings. But Victor refused and just shoved them back straight away.  
“No. I’ll win them back all. One more round.” Zsasz said with monotonous focus in his voice. I took a little glimpse around the corner of the table, now that his hands were both occupied. Oops, yup, good timing!!  
  
“Miss Quinn, please take him off my hands! He’s been here the whole night and I didn’t get a single second of sleep! He’s joined a round of poker with Scarecrow, Bane, Two Face, Poison Ivy and your boyfriend. But EVERYONE had the common sense to go home at some point! Not him. But even though I’m almost passing out from sleep deprivation, I really am, I’m still a better player than him. As you can see... very vividly illustrated...” He nodded towards the naked Victor besides us. “I just can’t lose on PURPOSE, I just CAN’T. I didn’t MEAN to get him naked.”  
“I see. So you guys really didn’t have sex or nothing?” I asked, as final confirmation.  
“Oh my god, no! I’m telling you! You put him in front of any form of gambling and he’s OUT until somebody drags him away with force. Sex was never on the table when Victor comes by for a poker night.”  
“Oh I see, not on the table. So you did it on the floor?” I teased.  
“NO, THAT WAS A FIGURE OF SPEECH!” He panicked.  
“Haha, yeah, I’m just fucking with you.” I laughed. Call me nuts, but I actually believed him. No matter how much it sounded like an excuse, my psychoanalytical skills confirmed that nothing happened. What a relief!  
  
Penguin took a card from the deck and put it in the lane.  
“Check.” Zsasz said. No idea what he would’ve put in the pot otherwise.  
“Check.” Oswald said.  
  
“He’s obsessed, really.” Penguin continued to explain, doing some small-talk to bridge the time until their round would come to an end. “You’d think he’d WORK on that, after the trouble it’s gotten him into. On that note, did I ever tell you how he ended up working at my lounge? Because it was because of that very reason!”  
“Oh? I don’t think I know the story!” I snacked on the salted nuts, curious to find out more of Zsasz’s tragic background story.  
“He got into pretty heavy gambling debts at my establishment, so I had to offer him a job as my bouncer for a chance to get any of it back. He never fully paid it off, but I gave up on that when he got locked up in Arkham. Suited me right at the time, to be honest...”  
“Oh shit. Really?” I exclaimed in shock and put a handful of nuts into my mouth and washed them down with beer.  
“He used to have proper cash, if you can believe it. I guess having a _sugar daddy_ who only gives you pocket money is working out better for him. I only won peanuts tonight... But he’s got an addiction, so limited funds didn’t stop him.” He sighed, pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and nodded towards Zsasz’ naked self.  
“Oh, fuck yeah. Addict personality structure, for sure. I think that’s not the only thing he’s addicted to.” I chuckled. “One of the other things is waiting outside in the car. And THAT one got shot in the leg, drunk, and asked me to drive him here. How desperate can a man get? Poor Roman Sionis... all alone without his loyal bodyguard...”  
  
This FINALLY ripped Zsasz out of his trance.  
“What? Roman got SHOT?”  
“Oh yeah. Didn’t I mention? He’s pretty miserable.”  
Zsasz’s eyes went wide as he let his hand cards fall on the table and cascade to the floor. He jumped up, just barely grabbing his pants and stumbled towards the exit while he tried to put them on. Got a good view of his bouncing ass while he pulled them up. Nice.  
“No, no, no, no, no, no....” He mumbled to himself. He ripped open the door, and almost ran nose first into Roman, standing in the door frame. Oops, that’s not the look I would’ve gone for to emerge from Penguin’s man cave. Well at least they had an ice breaker (haha) to talk about now.  
  


* * *

 ** _ROMAN SIONIS  
  
_** ****When I entered the door, I hadn’t expected having to face him so quickly. Fuck, okay, say something Roman. Anything.  
“Hi.” I said in a small, high-pitched voice, staring at Victor right in front of me. Topless, shoeless, sockless. My stomach sank. He wasn’t even wearing underwear, judging by the subtle outline of his COCK! What the FUCK! What the was going on in here?  
“No.” He said.  
“No? I just said hi...” Was he rejecting me, before I got to say anything? And why was Harley just casually hanging out with Oswald Cobblepot way over there, having a beer and snacks. Oh, wait one fucking minute... Oswald Cobblepot plus Victor in an advanced state of undress? FUCK!  
“Hey, Oswald!! Can somebody tell me what’s going on here?!” I gave him a wide open-mouthed grin and shoved Victor aside. I furiously limped and hobbled over to them. And to insult me even further, Oswald had the nerve to giggle! He was giggling about me, didn’t even take me serious when I was getting ready to skin him alive!  
“Look, who’s the penguin now...” He mumbled, but I heard every goddamn word of it.  
“I’m gonna break both of your legs and cut off your cock, you stupid little fuck.” I said in a threateningly sweet tone. THAT wiped the smile off of his face. With every step I came closer, he got smaller and more afraid, as he should be, big-mouthed little shit. And then he hid behind Quinn, like a cowardly fucker who KNEW he had it coming!  
Behind me, Victor followed in lockstep, repeating a concerned “No” like he was trying to stop me. Well, I wouldn’t be stopped, baby, sorry about that, you all done fucked up!  
“Romy, wait a second! They didn’t have sex! Probably.” Harley assured me. Well that sounded convincing.  
“PROBABLY?” Penguin shrieked in horror. “NO, WE DIDN’T! I avoid getting back together with exes! That’s never served me well!”  
  
I was standing by the table now, and that little Penguin bitch was scared shitless. He tried to get up and stumble backwards, but Harley grabbed his arm and held him in place, good, ok, she was still on my side.  
“EXES?” I shrieked. “Why THE FUCK am I hearing this JUST NOW? Does anybody ever tell me anything??” I turned to Victor, who seemed confused, more than anything.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” I yelled into his face.  
“It was never relevant.” He said in a low voice.  
“Never relevant?!” I threw my hands up. “I was trash-talking your ex-boyfriend behind his back all the time! AND I’VE KNOWN THIS GUY FOR DECADES, he’s not some stranger to me!”  
“Hey, haha...” Oswald dared to speak, laughing nervously. “I thought we had a healthy rivalry, Roman. Trash-talk me to my face.”  
“Oh I’m gonna do ENTIRELY DIFFERENT things to you NOW, my dear Oz, if it turns out you touched my fucking property!”  
It would be easy. I wished Harley would hold him with BOTH hands, instead of that half-assed one-armed grab so she could keep on snacking. But she didn’t seem to have any trouble holding him like this, so whatever, fine with me. Stupid Penguin bitch couldn’t even free himself of the grasp of a girl.  
Out of my back pocket, I took out Victor’s knife. This time I didn’t come unprepared. I was ready to cut a bitch, no matter how disgusting it would get. Ew, it would be so disgusting, I hated to get my hands dirty. I’d do it for Victor! I had to! I flipped the knife open and all color drained from Oswald’s face.  
  
But Victor yanked my arm and turned me around to face him. Dragged me into his arms with that feral force of his.  
“Ouch! Hey, l-let me do this... I won’t give up without a fight! I’m gonna— ” I protested.  
“Yes, please, keep him away from me!” Oswald interjected.  
“SHUT UP!” Harley yelled at Oswald.  
“We didn’t have sex.” Victor stated calmly. “Are you ok?!” He gazed into my eyes with a concerned urgency that made my heart skip a beat. He gently took the knife from my hands, folded it up and slid it back into my back pocket. In my confusion, I just let it happen. And then, he started to pat me down from all sides. What, was he looking for more weapons? I raised my hands a little and felt like I was at airport security.  
“What are you doing? Hey! ...Victor, just tell me the truth, did you really not cheat on me? Because if you did, it’d be okay, I’d just kill Oswald and then we could— ”  
“No.” He stopped to fixate me. There was genuine confusion in them, like it never even crossed his mind. Oh, it was impossible to suspect any willingness for deceit in these big, dark eyes...  
“I just played some poker with a few people. Literally lost my last shirt...” He said.  
“Again?” A weak smile crossed my face.  
“Again.” He smiled back.  
“Oh thank fucking god!” I sighed with relief. “For one hot second, I almost stabbed a bitch... you didn’t do anything!”  
“I told you!” Harley said.  
“I told you, too!” Oswald added.  
  
Victor surveyed my body from head to toe, holding my cheek, patting my chest, hands going down my sides and legs. He fell to his knees right in front of me, sliding his palms along my legs until he found the injury when I flinched. He gingerly held my thigh and gazed up at me in a way those big pleading puppy eyes that made my heart melt.  
”Your leg... it’s hurt... are you in pain?“ He asked.  
“Oh well, it’s not that bad.” I smiled coily, blushing a little. “I mean, it’s kind of horrible and I’ve had the worst day of my life, but, you know.”  
Victor embraced my legs, gingerly rubbing his cheek against my injured thigh. He even gave a little purr, like a cat. He was so weird sometimes... I love it.  
“Who did this?” He asked. “I will kill them. I will kill their families. I will kill everyone they know."  
“No, it’s... it’s alright. Let’s figure out what to do later.” I softly stroked his head, feeling the short hair tickle my palms. He eagerly leaned into it and gave a little ‘meow’. I ruffled his hair a bit rougher and he laughed. But his face quickly became serious.  
“I’m so sorry, Roman. That was my fault. That’s unforgivable. I should’ve never left you alone, you need my protection.”  
“Yes, I DO...!” The words erupted out of me with the force of a whole day’s frustration crashing down on me. I felt sudden tears swelling up, so he came up to hug me, and oh, how much I needed that.  
“PLEASE come back, baby! Oh, I’m surrounded by incompetent, unreliable idiots who all want to betray me! You’re the only one I can trust!”  
“Shhh, I know...” He rubbed my back soothingly.  
  
"Talk about co-dependency..." Harley commented, snacking on nuts. "I think between the two of them, they share one single brain cell. You wouldn’t believe the day Roman had. And Victor literally ended up broke and naked."  
“Mh-hm.” Penguin said.  
  
Before we’d leave, I turned to Oswald one more time, bearing my teeth in an angry snarl. That fucker would get a piece of my mind, even if nothing happened. How could I ever think it did, just looking at him made me realize the absurdity of this thought. Zsasz had me now, and I was a 10, he was a 4 at best!  
“BY THE FUCKING WAY, OSWALD. You know about his gambling addiction and still let him play poker with you? What kind of monster are you?"  
“THAT is a fair point, man. I’ve been thinking about that, too.” Harley added.  
"He's a grown man who can make his own decisions, Roman." Oswald deadpanned.  
“I mean, YES... but that’s real fucking suspicious, you know? To abuse a man’s weak spot like that WITHOUT any ulterior motive? I don’t think so. You had a plan.” I sneered.  
“Yeah, what did you plan to do? Getting him to owe you money again?” Harley added with gusto. Were we a cop duo now? Bad cop, bad cop?  
“He’s under my protection, you idiot fuck, I could BUY you.” I hissed. Zsasz stroked my back and smiled with a certain satisfaction. I put an arm around his shoulders.  
“If you think so.” Oswald said drily.  
“He DOES think so!” Harley slammed her fist on the table. “Come on, boys, let’s leave this joint!”  
“Fucking finally...” Oswald mumbled.

* * *

We drove home with Victor and me in the backseat of my Rolls-Royce and Harley in the front. I mean, she managed before, so she should be able to drive us back too. I couldn’t keep my hands off my recently returned Victor, and held his hands as if to make sure he wouldn’t jump out of the car. Of course he wouldn’t. Harley seemed to make a game out of catching ALL the bumps in the road, fo fuck’s sake, but we could mostly ignore it.  
  
When we arrived back at my apartment, a huge weight fell off my shoulders. Victor supported me with an arm around me, making sure I didn’t have to put too much weight on my damaged leg as I walked over to my couch. The way our sides aligned made my heart flutter a little — he’s been gone for just about 24 hours and my body was overreacting like I’ve been starving for weeks. Or it was the drug cocktail in my veins, who the fuck knows. When I sat down, I realized I still had his flip knife in my back pocket. I took it out and offered it to him.  
  
“No, you keep the knife.” He whispered, closing my hand around it. “Give it to me whenever you want somebody taken care of. Okay? I don’t want to disappoint your trust by doing something stupid. So I trust you to give it to me whenever needed.”  
“I... okay. Yeah, that sounds nice. That’s a good idea.” I smiled abashedly and put it back into my pocket. I knew how much that knife meant to him, and carrying the tools to kill in his favorite way. It was like a token of love. More meaningful than flowers or chocolates or a diamond ring. I was almost moved to tears, but I had REALLY cried enough today already. Zsasz sat down close to me and leaned in to whisper into my ear.  
“I belong to you and I want to protect you. Your well-being comes first. I’m a tool for you to use, boss...”  
“Oh... that’s so sweet... you’re my favorite tool, I’d be lost without you...” I giggled.  
“Yes, you would. Want to use me for a kiss?” He licked along my neck — oh, it sent shivers down my spine.  
“Oh, do I... come here...” I grabbed his cheek as he also grabbed mine, and we greedily pulled each other close to press our lips together. I welcomed his tongue into my mouth, hot and greedy to mess me up. I sighed into the kiss and put an arm around him. I could taste that he had beer and not enough sleep, but I probably still reeked of whiskey and champagne myself. And he was never bothered by any of that, totally unfazed, he was such a rascal!  
  
“I’m so sorry, baby...” I whispered into the crook of his neck as I stopped for air. “It’s just that... everybody always betrays me... you know that!”  
“I know.”  
“And when you refused to do what I told you... I was just afraid that you’d betray me too. So I figured, I should scare you off before that happens. But I don’t WANT you gone! I need you! I didn’t mean to be so mean to you, you DO matter to me. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m just a paranoid little bitch sometimes...”  
“Nooo... it’s good to be suspicious.” He cooed, kissing my forehead.  
“But I want to trust YOU... please just make it easy for me, yeah?”  
“I’ll do everything to prove my loyalty to you.” He raked his hands through my hair, with the grain of my brush, making sure it didn’t mess up my hairdo completely. So thoughtful, oh... I embraced his waist and pressed my face against his shoulder, humming happily against his skin.  
  
Then I heard a giggle from the door. Of course, Harley Quinn had watched us, like she always does, the fucking stalker. She was beaming with joy.  
“I’m so happy it worked out for you two!” She exclaimed.  
“You can go home, Harley...” I groaned. “Oh. And don’t talk about this to anybody. ‘Kay?”  
“My lips are sealed! But to be honest, I feel like I deserve a little thanks for this? Along the lines of: ‘Thank you Harley, you saved our relationship, you could’ve been a couple’s therapist if you wanted to!’”  
“Alright. Thank you for helping me out. Genuinely.” I groaned.  
“Thanks.” Zsasz said.  
“Thank you for thanking me! I’m happy to help. That’s what friends are for.” She hopped over to give me a hug, and after short hesitation, another for Zsasz. Okay, what the fuck, whatever.  
  
“You can take the rest of my Häagen Dazs as a reward.” I waved her away, already getting lost in Zsasz’s eyes again. “There’s more tubs in the freezer, just help yourself. Take as much as you can carry.”  
“Oh no... did you eat ice cream?” Victor said.  
“Well I was very SAD that you were gone, okay... I know it doesn’t fit my usual diet, but... I just felt awful. I felt like I was dying without you, like my body was deteriorating from the inside...”  
“Boss...You’re lactose intolerant... you forgot the lactase pills, didn’t you?” Zsasz held my cheeks and pouted at me.  
“No I’m not lactose intolerant, I was never lactose intolerant before?! I’m telling you, that doesn’t just start in middle-age, that’s bullshit. I’m not... no...”  
“You’re lost without me...” He mumbled against my lips.  
“Hm-hm.” I nodded, giving him a smitten smile.  
“I’ll protect you from evil dairy products...” He licked over my mouth.  
"‘Kay..." I giggled.  
  
"Wow, guess I DID help you by eating most of the ice cream!" Quinn chimed in from the kitchenette. "Can some of your guys help me transport the tubs of ice cream? You bought like... a month’s supply..."  
“You can, I don’t know, borrow my Rolls-Royce.” I said dismissively.  
“You sure that is a good idea?” Victor objected. “Harley Quinn, borrowing your car? She’s unreliable...”  
“Sure! She just drove it around, she knows how to handle it. Why would she be that stupid to get on by bad side again? She wouldn’t mess that up.”  
Harley returned, doing a little happy dance while walking, clapping her hands with excitement.  
“I CAN BORROW YOUR ROLLS?” She shrieked with joy.  
“Yeah, yeah! Just for transporting the ice cream! Bring it back right way, ok? And no wet spots, no leaked ice cream, no scratches. You got that?” I smirked and pointed towards the door. “Now get out of here, I’m in desperate need of make-up sex and I really don’t want you around for that.”  
“Ha, what makes you think I’d WANNA be?” She laughed. “I mean, besides the fact that you’re two attractive men and which woman can say no to gay porn— ”  
“Harley, just, shut up and leave.” I threw her a death glare.  
“YYYUP! ENJOY, BOYS!”  
  
With those words, she grabbed a tower of stacked ice cream boxes and took off. Finally, alone with Zsasz. He immediately grabbed me for another kiss and I leaned into his arms. The way his tongue demandingly pushed mine around was sending me places. His full lips felt so soft, hot and sensual on mine. He slid a hand under my shirt, wandering up my chest, and my breath was growing shallow and jittery with anticipation.  
  
A loud crash from below my window ripped me out of the mood. I jumped up and limped over as quick as I could. Ah, fucking leg... (I’d need some more morphine). When I took a glance outside, realization the source of the noise filled me with absolute horror. It was once again proof that I’d really have to work on trusting Zsasz more, and everyone else less. Fucking FUCK!! That couldn’t be, why would she do this?! She did it on purpose! She was out to fucking ruin me and ever second of potential companionship was just a ploy to get my guard down! UGH!!  
“HARLEY, YOU FUCKING BITCH!!” I shrieked, desperately grasping for Victor’s arm. “MY CAR!! SHE CRASHED MY FUCKING ROLLS!!!”


	8. Forgot To Use A Coaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley has relationship troubles and tries to cheer herself up at the Black Mask Club. Roman has a heart-to-heart with her - which escalates quickly...

_**ROMAN SIONIS**_  
  
  
The nightclub was in full swing, and the drunken rush of my patrons was the perfect cover for business discussions. If anybody overheard anything, it would be a warning. A bit of advertisement for me and my increasing influence in the city of Gotham. The details were another question entirely, and not for the public — I’d carefully decide what to postpone for further discussion in secret. I was sitting in one of the corner booths with a new potential ally, some questionably rich Dane who was seeking to gain more footing in the city.  
  
“I’d be happy to do this for you.” I cooed. “It’s just a small cost for a lot of effect, and then we can discuss how you can pay me back?”  
“I don’t want you to harm his dogs, though... I consider myself an animal lover. They’re usually better than people.” He said.  
“Oh get over it. You want this house, right? Landlords are criminals — no offense — and tenants are animals. For the small price of a few dogs, we can create enough pressure so he kicks them all out and sells it to you. So you don’t have to deal with any of the tenants yourself. I mean, we could kill one of THEM, too?”  
“But his dogs have nothing to do with this. Can’t you just threaten him differently?”  
“Oh, what do you want me to do, send him a disembodied horse’s head? If that makes you feel better, we can START with that! Though I doubt the old sack would be impressed. He’s not a rookie, you’re dealing with the Russian mafia here. And don’t you think the head would be a bit too cliché? What would be the culturally appropriate equivalent... A bear? Oh, what a bother. Let’s justs kill the dogs! Come on!” I playfully slapped his back and rubbed it.  
“I don’t know...”  
I slid my arm around him and looked into his eyes. I could see his alarm bells going off — immediately followed by his defences going down. I leaned in close enough to speak quietly, intimately, softly.  
“If your conscience is bugging you, I’m sure I can help you with that, too. I’m here to support you, ok? I can be your friend.”  
He was getting nervous, squirming a little under my touch. But in a good way. I had him.  
“One dog. Let’s start with one dog.” He agreed. “The large Doberman with the light spot on his snout. That bastard attacked one of my associates once.”  
“That’s the spirit! Good choice. I’ll take care of it and make sure he gets the message. Come on, let’s have a drink to that.”  
I waved over one of my waitresses and had her hand us two cosmopolitans. We had a toast, although my business partner seemed keen to leave, now that we agreed on a plan of action. Probably nervous somebody would see him with me, and betray the future crime and his connection to it. I smiled with recognition and gave him an affirmative nod. As he got up, I patted his back and told him goodbye. I watched the tall blonde dodge the dancing party people until he was out of sight.  
  
I gave a deep sigh, satisfied but a little frustrated. I turned around to lean into the neighboring booth, where Miss Harley Quinn has been sitting all along, nursing a drink of her own.  
“Harley, what’s your take on this? Sometimes I feel like half the people only do business with me because I’m so cute...”  
“Me? I was just sitting here, not eavesdropping at all!” She assured very loudly, nervously drinking more.  
I raised an eyebrow at her.  
“I was talking to this nice lady!" She clarified.  
“This nice lady?” A smirk crossed my lips when she nodded over her shoulder, to one of my marble busts. Harley’s broad stiff grin indicated she hadn’t even caught up on her mistake yet.  
“...I’m sure you’ll find better conversationalists than my interior decoration, Miss Quinn.”  
“Oh. Wow look at that, and I was talking to her the whole time! Haha!” She rubbed the busts’s head. “Well, she WAS a good listener!”  
I noticed that there were already four empty glasses on her table and nobody else around. None of them had a coaster underneath, I noticed with reluctance, but I guess that was alright since the table’s material was chosen to not leave any traces if cleaned properly. I designed this club to endure messiness. I WELCOMED messiness, if that meant people having a good time. But she didn’t seem to, and that was a problem.  
  
"Hey, what’s the matter? You’re looking like a bummer and I can’t have that at my club. Not enjoying the music?"  
“Nah the music’s good, I like Kaskade. Come on, join me for a drink?” She asked with a despair that reeked of loneliness. I changed seats to join her in her booth.  
I now noticed that her top was almost entirely see-through except for a few medium sized stars, letting her pink bra flash through. She had combined it with striped high-waisted shorts, ankle boots, silver chains for jewelry, pink shades and a silver-blue sequined blazer. It looked horrendously tacky and like straight out of a circus (who wears sequins?!), but hats off to her, she made it work as well as it could. It was going with her theme. I can appreciate somebody with a coherent sense of fashion, even though Harley and I didn’t QUITE agree on what counts as good taste... the sequins were sending me places and not in a good way, ew.  
  
“Nice top. Accentuates your general chest area.” I commented with a smile.  
“Oh thanks!! It’s actually a leotard.” She grinned, almost keeling over. She grabbed two drinks from a passing waitress and continued chugging it desperately, as if she was dying of thirst. The second landed in my hand, as she urged me to drink with her.  
“I looove your salmon-colored suit, Romy...” She sloppily ran her hands over my lapel, admiring the texture it seemed.  
“You look like a gay best friend who just returned from his vacation from Hawaii, still radiant from the affair with a local surfing instructor...”  
“Aw, thanks honey. Not what I had in mind, but I like the interpretation. Sounds like a good vacation, I could go for a young, tanned surfing instructor now...”  
She giggled and hooked her arm into mine, playfully leaning against me and swaying a little.  
“Don’t tell your boyfriend, you bad boy! Or else he might... throw you out again... even though your newest success was your plan, and you risked your safety to get it done, because you’re... too annoying... in front of his cool friends...” She broke into a sudden heap of sobs and drunkenly fell around my neck. I hastily pulled a tissue from my handbag and tried to put it in between her tears and my expensive jacket.  
  
“Harley, I get the feeling this isn’t about me...” I patted her back awkwardly and gave her a benevolent smile. “Come on. I can’t believe I’m saying that VOLUNTARILY but... tell me what happened.”  
Probably a mistake, but I was feeling generous and tipsy enough to bear her obnoxious voice for a longer time. I drank some more.  
“Well...” She sniffed and rubbed the tears out of the corners of her eyes, but they bubbled right back. “Like I said. He threw me out, even though we had a really successful day! You see, we exchanged all Titian’s at the Gotham Metropolitan Museum of Art for portraits of Mistah J, and sold it for a private buyer at a huge profit WHILE having a blast with this little prank!”  
“Oh? Good to know you’re an art thief, too.”  
“I even PAINTED the pictures, ya see? Took me MONTHS, one of my finest work. The big news should break tomorrow morning, when they open the museum again... but we got the dough, we’re fucking rich.”  
  
“Well, where was the problem?” I asked, encouraging her continue.  
“When he met with his buddies from Gotham’s criminal underground, HE SENT ME HOME when I got 'TOO ANNOYING'.”  
“Well, you can be a handful...” I chuckled and patted her back.  
“I KNOW, but that was also MY success? It was basically 80% ME. But I can be a team player, so it was OUR thing. Yet he celebrates it as if I had just made his coffee, and not researched the floor plan and schedules, painted the pictures, and actually PUT THEM IN THERE.”  
I shook my head, scandalized, and ordered us new drinks, a sweet Lemon Drop. She thankfully accepted and we continued to get shitfaced.  
“When things go wrong, he’s ashamed of me! But when things go right, he’s ashamed it wasn’t HIS DOING, so, yeah! What a surprise, that’s men for ya!”  
I tutted in sympathy, almost forgetting that this could theoretically include me. But I’m self-confident enough to not scream ‘not all men’ when I know she’s kind of right.  
“There’s this TINY territory where I’m allowed to move, where I’m perfect but not too perfect, because god forbid I SURPASS him in any way! UGH! I’m not one for SUBTLETY, you know that Romy! I go big or go home!”  
“Oh I know, Harley, I know.”  
She sobbed and broke into tears again. Well, that ruined my jacket... I hoped at least her make-up would be cheap and easy to remove.  
  
“I have a question for you. Just something absolutely wild and out there.” I said. “Why are you still with him?”  
“Um, hello? He’s the Joker, I’m Harley Quinn. We’re an inseperable duo. Like Bonnie and Clyde. Ernie and Bert. Batman and underaged boys in skimpy outfits. You know?!”  
“I get it, but be honest to yourself. How often do you come here with tears in your eyes? I see that you consider yourself to be a supporter, not a leader... but aren’t you giving yourself too little credit?”  
She raised her watery eyes to beam at me with a thankfulness I hadn’t expected.  
“...Romy... are...are you telling me you think I’m a strong, independent woman?”  
I shrugged. “Why, sure!”  
“Oh... Romy... but I love him!” She sobbed again.  
“Don’t I know that trouble, girl.”  
“But it’s super sweet of you to be so supportive... like... oh my god, Romy... you do like me.”  
“I don’t want you to have a bad time while you’re in here. So either get yourself drunk enough for fun bad decisions, or go home to cry. You’re fucking up the vibes.”  
“You don’t mean that.” She chuckled and playfully flicked my nose. “I’ll take that advice though. MORE DRINKS! Let’s party!”  
With that, she seemed cured of her miserable state. She jumped up and found the nearest table to climb on, cheering and dancing. She kicked over a few glasses and made them spill and shatter — I took a deep breath, knowing one of my employees would soon come to clean it up discreetly.  
  
I walked around the club, watching Harley’s performance with an attentive eye. Just to see how much she’d escalate. I was anticipating her cheating on her boyfriend tonight, I could almost taste it. Flirty, greedy, desperate for some affirmation. Men (and women) were starting to pay attention to her, it was only a matter of who.  
  
Victor casually settled next to me, speaking with a low voice chosen to be only between us.  
“What was that?” He asked.  
“Oh, just the usual chit-chat. Keeping the peace and sowing ideas.”  
“What ideas? Sounded like you were being nice to her. Like a friend...”  
“Oh, well, you know the proverb: You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”  
He gave me a confused shrug, so I waved it off.  
“Nevermind. What I mean is: If Harley would end her relationship with the Joker, that would be a huge blow to his capacities. And she’d lose her political immunity. I’m just saying it would drastically weaken two annoyances at once.”  
When I said it out loud, it made sense. Like this was what I was planning all along. Retroactively adjusting my motivation, even though maybe I hadn’t been that aware of it in the moment yet.  
“Ah. You’re playing her.” A broad, shit-eating grin spread on his lips, showing off his gold teeth.  
“I’m amazed by my own capacity for masterful manipulation, sometimes.” I smirked.  
“Hm.” He kept his smile, but it became stiff. He looked away from me. He was watching Harley as well, but with an intensity that went beyond his usual watchful eye.  
  
“What are you doing?” I chuckled. “Why the look?”  
“Thinking about peeling off Quinn’s face.” He said in a low hum.  
“No! Bad Zsasz!!” I playfully slapped his arm. “We’re not going to peel off her face YET!”  
“Just getting into the mindset... for when you want me to do it, boss.”  
I shook my head and rubbed his arm to calm him down.  
“I’m still giving her the benefit of a doubt. Okay? Maybe I don’t want her dead.”  
He squinted at me with suspicion in his eyes.  
“Yeah, I can’t believe I just said that either.” I rolled my eyes. “She’s not always entirely useless. She can be entertaining! Like a crazy little monkey in a zoo!”  
“She’s been breaking into your apartment so often I feel like she’s moved in. She’s not taking you seriously. You’re letting her get too close, she’ll abuse that power over and over again.”  
“Oh don’t be jealous. You’re the only one who has a key to my flat?”  
Zsasz pressed his lips together in a forced smile. I gave him a broad grin and grabbed his shoulder in encouragement. With yet another new drink in my hand, I walked into the masses, ready to dance and party with my patrons. I raised the glass to Victor, walking backwards.  
“It’s not like one day I’ll wake up lying next to her instead of you!”  
I took another big gulp, and the sweet fruity sharpness kicked my party gears into motion. I cheered before I turned around and lost sight of Zsasz.

* * *

  
The next morning, I woke up in my bed, lying next to motherfucking Harley Quinn.  
“HARLEY!” I shrieked, pulling the blanket over me. My head said good morning with an explosive migraine that came so sudden and raw that I squeezed my eyes shut. My back was also killing me, I was sore all over my entire body. I rubbed my nose and realized it was crusted in blood — and it gave me vague flashbacks of doing coke and possibly K later last night.  
“Huh? Oh...” Harley groaned and held her forehead. When she tried to sit up, the blanket slid off her shoulders, revealing he wasn’t wearing her outfit anymore. Not even the pink bra. I swiftly grabbed the fabric and stuck it into her hands.  
“Morning to you too, Romy... are we getting breakfast in bed? I don’t think I want to— ... WOAH, HOLD the FUCK UP!” She finally noticed the predicament we were in. We stared at each other and our surroundings, knowing how little room for misinterpretation it left us. When I peeked under the blanket I saw that I was wearing nothing but my boxer briefs.  
  
“Are you... are you fucking SERIOUS? You fucking— ” I finally yelled at her, worsening my own migraine immediately.  
“Are YOU fucking serious?!!” She yelled back.  
“What did you DO?” My mind was spinning. I tried to make sense of it. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, afraid of finding out the details of last night. “Did you slip something into my drink?”  
“What do you take me for, a date-raping homewrecker?!” She shrieked, looking gravely insulted. “You know I want the best for you and Zsasz! What the fuck have YOU done, taking advantage of my depressed, intoxicated state?! This is bad...”  
  
I finally gathered my thoughts enough to guide this conversation into a direction that provides more productive answers.  
“Okay, so, let’s start at the beginning. DID we have sex?” Started with the big questions first.  
“I don’t know, I was blackout drunk!” She gestured wildly. “But the clues are sure as fuck there! Don’t YOU remember anything?”  
“NO!” My voice slipped higher in a rising feeling of panic.  
“Do you see my strap-on somewhere?” She started to look around and I averted my eyes to not stare at her naked figure.  
“Your strap-on? Harley, I'm a MAN, I come equipped with a fucking dick. I guess we didn't fuck if you hadn't noticed that.” I was clinging to the blanket, uncomfortable in my own skin.  
“Usually you don’t mind two dicks or more.” She mumbled.  
“Yeah but... why, do you usually carry one around?”  
“I would, if I had sex with you, you big bottom.”  
“Oh shut up.” I hissed.  
“I consider that a reluctant confession.” She gave a lopsided smirk and hopped out of bed, dragging the blanket with her like a toga. She was searching around like she was on an Easter egg hunt, and it proved to be a challenge. At least she found her underwear quickly and continued her search with her private parts all covered.  
  
My confusion was turning into pure rage. The anger pushed its way up my throat like a burning acid reflux.  
“I'd fuck YOU, Harley! Just to make that clear!” I snapped, screaming.  
“Oh you KNOW you wouldnt!!” She yelled back with bared teeth. “Maybe a first round, to prove yourself! But then I'd give it to YOU all night long! And you'd beg for more, because you looove a good dicking, Mr Sionis!”  
“YOU’RE a bottom! You act all lively and quirky, but you actually just want somebody to pander and DADDY you! Miss daddy’s little monster!!” I countered.  
“Oh shut UP, Mr Freud!” She clicked her tongue.  
  
“You dont fucking take me serious!” I put my thoughts into words. “Zsasz was RIGHT, you think you could do whatever you want with me!"  
“Oh really? You dont take ME serious!! You think I'm an idiot, a brainless dummy!“  
“Have you seen Zsasz? He's a moron! I LOVE dumb people!”  
“This isn’t about LOVE, it’s about RESPECT! Also who talks like that about their boyfriend? You should be ashamed!!“ She gasped.  
“YOU should be, you slutty fucking fuck!” I spat.  
“YOU are slutshaming ME? Believe you me, you have the higher body count and I support and respect your slutty lifestyle but ROMY, THERE ARE FUCKING LIMITS! Like me, I AM THE LIMIT!”  
“WELL, I'D NEVER FUCK YOU SOBER!” I screamed.  
“How often do you fuck sober AT ALL??” She screamed.  
“SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE!”  
  
I grabbed a pillow, jumped up and pushed it into her face. She stumbled and I pressed her down on the floor. I pushed the pillow down, determined to choke the bitch. Suddenly, it dawned on me. “I see what you’re doing! You’re trying to tear us apart! To weaken my capacities! To make me vulnerable!!”  
She kicked me in the stomach and threw me off of her. I landed on my back and wheezed for air. The pain was excruciating, as if my guts had been damaged in last night’s romp and the little kick was a reminder of it all. She stood up and continued searching for her clothes, getting dressed with me lying on the floor.  
“You got a fucking problem...” She spoke down at me, standing over me like she was something better, something stronger. Great, now my EGO hurt, too. But with this exchange of violent gestures, a silence fell between us and we cooled down a little bit.  
  
I needed a moment to get moving again. I dragged myself to where I had seen my slacks, miserably slipping into them. When I was about to put on my watch and check the time, I noticed something on my bedside table.  
There were two more empty glasses, which we must’ve brought upstairs. One had a coaster underneath, the other did not. I lifted it, and it stuck to the polished African blackwood like sugary glue. Oh my fucking god. This day was getting better and better.  
“Harley... tell me...” I hissed. “You couldn’t even use a fucking coaster?”  
“What’s that, a euphemism for a condom? I ALWAYS use protection..."  
“NO, I mean the THINGS you put underneath DRINKS so they don’t leave STAINS.”  
“Oh, you meant coasters. Huh, what for?” She looked over to me to find me gesturing at the cocktail glasses.  
“They’re RIGHT in the FUCKING nightstand! It would’ve been A REALLY easy gesture!” I opened the table and demonstrated the existence of a selection of elegant lacquered coasters with Chinese patterns.  
“Oh come on.” She dismissed, slipping into her semi-transparent leotard. “I hadn’t used coasters all night, nobody does that at the club.... — Can I borrow a shirt? My weather app says it’s a bit rainy today.”  
“NO YOU CAN’T. — My dear Harley, this nightstand right here, it’s AFRICAN BLACKWOOD. You know what that means? I’ll never get this ugly fucking bitch of a stain out of it! It’s ruined! YOU RUINED MY THINGS!”  
“How am I supposed to know different rooms have different rules?” She squinted at me, angrily wiggling into her shorts.  
“THEY DON’T, because this is MY HOME and not the BLACK MASK CLUB!” I tried rubbing the stain with a napkin but it was too late for that. I rubbed harder, as if it could help me feel less dirty, too.  
“Oh, right. I sometimes forget.” She said, not showing a hint of remorse.  
“Oh I noticed you fucking do!!” I yelled.  
  
I angrily took my purple silk robe from my wardrobe and threw it on, ushering her out of the bedroom.  
“Come on, you’re dressed enough!”  
“Alright, alright!” She growled.  
  
We left the bedroom nook for the large open space of my studio apartment, straight for the door. But she tore herself away from my grasp, and I immediately saw why.  
  
Zsasz was sitting at the dinner table. Waiting.  
  
He must’ve heard the entire fucking conversation. There was no way he wouldn’t have. Because when I got this place I thought it’d be elegant and cozy to inhabit a suite apartment without any doors separating different areas. I never figured I’d need privacy WITHIN my own home! This was meant to be MY kingdom, reserved for me and private interactions WITH me... So now Zsasz has heard everything, about the whole predicament, and it was impossible to deny it. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.  
  
“Oh shit.” Harley said as she tried to sneak away from the scene, probably still looking for her jacket.  
“Shh, can you— please— just for one fucking second— ” I shook my hand, hastily gesturing for her to shut up.  
  
I walked up to Zsasz, who had locked eyes with me, unblinking and HURT.  
“Hey... hi...” I said with a smile that felt disingenuous even to myself.  
Without averting his eyes, he slowly took one of the decorative roses from my dinner table, brushed his fingers along the petals first, then his lips. I was caught off guard by this sensual display of flirting, thought, hey, maybe it would all be okay. Maybe I’d just have to buy him something nice, say sorry, and that was that. But then, he bit right into the blossom and began to chew, opening his eyes even more widely. I couldn’t tell if he was about to cry or to kill me.  
“Hey, boss...” Zsasz said, grinding the rose petals to tiny pieces.  
“Sorry, I’m still waking up, uuuh” I put my palms flat on the table and propped myself up. He didn’t even look at my chests or stomach, even though the robe was open and giving him a good view. Why wasn’t he immediately smitten again? I stretched my shoulders to show off my chest and took a deep breath. Come on. “Uh, can you give me the updates in a few minutes? Harley, find your jacket and purse and go home, will you?”  
“Aw, no breakfast?” She whined.  
“I’m not having breakfast with you, or else you’re getting ideas.” I smiled at her.  
“Like, what, that you’re a good host?”  
I gave her a death stare, which I was ready to act upon.  
“I’m on it!” She said, trying to navigate her way around the room. But Zsasz had risen from his seat, and put himself into her path. “If I can... just walk past... um, can I?” She said. When she stepped to one side, he mirrored her movements. When she stepped to the other side, he followed suit.  
“Oh boy, I hope your boyfriend got vaccinated against rabies, because I’m kind of scared he’s gonna bite me any minute.”  
“Well, if you leave soon, you don’t have to test your luck.” I pressed my lips together in a tight smile. She didn’t know half of it.  
She grabbed her jacket and raced for the door in the fastest walk of shame I’ve ever seen done by somebody other than me. But with horror, I witnessed how Zsasz grabbed her waist to stop her. She struggled and squirmed — and because she reacted fast, she somehow slipped through his grip and made a break for the door. She mumbled a quick “I’m sorry, I mean it!” as she escaped. Zsasz ran for her, but stopped before leaving the exit. With heaving shoulders and heavy breathing, he looked over his shoulder to me.  
  
“Don’t go now.” I blurted out in an act of despair. And he didn’t. He slowly walked towards me again.  
“No. I’ll find her later.” He said.  
  
Truth be told, I was fucking terrified of the things to come. I hated uncertainty. I hated being absolutely lost. And my head-splitting migraine didn’t make it any easier to think. What to do, what to do? Usually, when I felt this anxious, I’d ask Zsasz! I’d ask him to hold me, to massage me, to structure my thoughts and tell me everything would work out just fine. But that was out of the question now. I felt nauseated and like my legs would give in any minute. Maybe she DID peg me all night, ha, I was feeling unsteady enough for it! FUCK... no, PLEASE, no! I must’ve stared at Zsasz like a deer caught in headlights, or more appropriately, staring down its natural enemy’s throat — because he moved like a predator ready to pounce. When he stepped towards me, I had to force myself to hold still. But I failed catastrophically, flinching away like a little bitch, intimidated by his feral energy.  
  
“Why are you afraid?” He mumbled in his calm and low voice. “You know I wouldn’t harm YOU... I'd do nothing you don't secretly enjoy.”  
He grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him. I squeaked. He put a hand on the small of my back and pressed my body against his in this way that kind of turned me on. Oh no, I’d HATE to lose this, I was immediately putty in his hands.  
“And I know that you enjoy a lot of weird things, boss.” He added.  
Zsasz slowly, sexily reached into the pocket of my pants and took out the flipknife that I had left in there. THIS didn’t help to calm me down. I started to struggle in panic, but he held me close. He wouldn’t, would he? He wouldn’t usually take the knife without my permission, so WHO KNOWS what he was planning to do! Oh, Zsasz, no...  
“Listen, I’m sorry—“ I stammered. “I don’t know how it happened! I don’t even really like her! I love you—”  
He possessively pressed his lips on mine and forced his tongue in immediately. It was so fucking good, oh my god, his mouth felt hot and aggressive on mine. I hoped this wasn’t a Judas kiss but his way of reclaiming me— which usually I felt a bit iffy about? I own him, not the other way round. But... right now, I was so terrified of him LEAVING me that I immediately gave in and kissed him with all I got, clinging to his muscular arms. He dipped me lower, and I trusted him to hold me. Gradually, without breaking the kiss, he lowered me to the floor.  
  
“You didn’t have sex with her, Roman.” He mumbled against my neck.  
“What?” I blinked.  
“I can smell it when you had sex...” He whispered into my ear. Which was weird. But sexy.  
“You’re like a unique flower... giving off a betraying scent... Hormones... And you didn’t do it last night.” He breathed heavily against my skin, like he was about to lose it. Hopefully his sexual restraint, and not his hesitation to kill me. Hard to tell with him. I didn’t know what to reply.  
“I also found you two fast asleep, not long after I had lost sight of you.” He continued. “You didn’t have sex. Last night, you had...” He inhaled my scent more obviously, which was so odd and so Zsasz. “A salad with a raspberry vinegar sauce and some saltine crackers with hummus... 3 mimosas, 2 lemon drops, 2 cosmopolitans, 1 double whiskey, a few lines of powder... cocaine, knowing you, but maybe something else too... you couldn’t have had sex with all that in you, even if you tried. I know your limits.”  
  
“Oh my god.” I gasped, needing some time to process this magic trick. “I feel a little violated in my privacy there, Mr Jean-Baptiste Grenouille...” I whispered. Yeah, fuck, he wasn’t even bullshitting it. From what I vaguely remembered, it sounded like it could be right. And I could see when Zsasz was bullshitting things, he wasn’t a good actor with me.  
“Who? Sean Baptist...”  
“Oh, some character. We’ll watch the film adaptation sometime... if... if you want to. If we’ll have more movie nights.” The thought frightened me to an extent I didn’t see coming. No more movie nights. Losing him. Being on my own again. I’d die. I’d literally die. I’ve had to experience what happened when he wasn’t there for me, and it was a nightmare. And I hated to feel this dependent on him, I even hated him for it a little bit, but it was also such a pleasurable dependency. I needed him.  
“Fuck, Victor, baby.” I blurted out. ”I’ll give you a raise, a promotion — I’ll buy you anything you want, I’ll give you endless blowjobs — just don’t fucking leave me.”  
“I have no reason to leave you... although you are... annoying me.” He mumbled darkly. Fucking horrifying.  
But when the reality of this statement dawned upon me — that I did NOT have sex with Harley Quinn — I broke into relieved laughter. Despite the tense atmosphere, or maybe, because of it.  
“Yeah... nothing happened...” I laughed, “So there’s no problem, right? Haha, oh my god, I was terrified for a moment! What are you being so scary for then?”  
He pinned my wrists to the floor and leaned in so close he almost touched the tip of my nose with his.  
“I told you Harley Quinn was trouble. This could’ve ended differently. I’ll fuck you any time you want, in any way you want... I can satisfy you. You’re getting yourself into trouble with this behavior, that’s what I’m worried about...”  
Fuck. I’m really not doing this because he doesn’t satisfy me. He’s my favorite sexual partner, by far. He’s always good to go when I’m horny — and then some. I love him! It really wasn’t about this...  
“You’re jealous, I get it... but— ” I said.  
“No ‘but’ today.” He barked, more aggressive than usual.  
“Okay, yeah, that’s fair—”  
  
He sat up and showed showed off the knife he had taken from my pocket. He flipped it open and licked along the edge.  
“Run.” He said, towering over me. I looked at him in disbelief. I continued to do so while I squeezed out from under him and stood up and moved away from him. After a few confused steps, he started chasing after me, and I ran. Oh wow, my battered body was NOT in the shape to flee. I managed to get away from him for a minute or so, but he wasn’t really trying to catch me. He was giving me an easy time. He was PLAYING with me. Like wild cats play-fight with their siblings. I could see it in his wild smile, and it was a huge relief. For the first second, I WASN’T sure where he was going with it! Did he want to give me a heart-attack?! When he finally tackled me onto the couch, I wasn’t even alarmed anymore — we were both laughing.  
  
He made a move to get my clothes off of me, but with the knife still in his hands, I had none of that. I reacted quickly.  
“Oh no! No, no, no!” I slipped out of my robe and my slacks, hurriedly tossing them aside.  
“Oh. That was fast.” Zsasz said, finally admiring the view. Finally looking at me. ADORING me.  
“Before you ruin my clothes again, you know, in an act of passion.” I smirked.  
“Hope you use that strategy only for me.” He hummed.  
  
He slid the backside of the knife across my exposed torso, sending me shivers down my spine. Maybe this is what he’d want now. To mark me with cuts as meaningful as his. I didn’t like the idea of blemishes upon my beauty, especially if they could be avoided, so I never agreed to his suggestion. HE looks great with his scars, but it’s not my aesthetic! I need to have flawless good looks, for work, for me, for the world! Maybe this was a sacrifice I’d have to make to keep him, make him mine forever. Maybe I’d agree to something easily hidden... He stopped at my throat, pressing it down ever so gently that it made me a little ticklish. But firm enough to make me swallow. Then, he turned the knife and handed it to me. Handle first.  
“I love it when you mark me...” He whispered. “I have a tally left, from yesterday. Cut my face.”  
“Mh... there are so many love marks that you had me do on you, so many symbols of your devotion... you still want more?” I cooed.  
“I’ll never get enough, Roman... they’re also a sign of your devotion to me...” He guided the knife in my hand to his cheek. With an enthusiastic flick of my wrist, I cut the cartillage of his ear. He hissed with delight. I drew the knife along the same spot again, since the first cut wasn’t deep enough to satisfy him. It didn’t count. I could tell.  
“Fuck.” He hissed lewdly. Turned on by the pain, he stripped off his shirt and slacks and everything, not wasting any time. A drop of his ear’s blood dripped down on my cheek, which made me realize just how profusely it had started bleeding. It trickled down in a small stream, and kept on dripping on me. He bled like a pig!  
“Wait, fuck, you’re bleeding on me.” I objected. “WHY IS THIS BLEEDING SO MUCH? I just nicked your ear!”  
“Kiss me, it’s fine... it’s normal. It’s the spot.” He rubbed his thumb over my cheek, probably spreading the blood on it. He leaned down and licked it off.  
“Ew! Let’s get a towel or something, Victor!!” I whined.  
“We can get one after I’m done with you...”  
I was too turned on to say no.  
  
  


* * *

_**HARLEY QUINN** _

  
This was bad. Really bad. I felt like I had really messed up my friendship with Romy with this one, even though there was STILL the off-chance that nothing actually happened. I didn’t feel like it did. But the fight had me feeling sick to my stomach while I fled the scene of crime. Maybe it was the hangover, too. I must admit, I loved partying with Romy, he was great company, his club was amazing, he was fun to be drunk with... but this really went further than both of us had planned. When I stumbled into the blinding daylight of this late Sunday morning, I almost landed flat on my face, right on the pavement. But somebody caught my fall — that gorgeous singer was hanging out behind the club and gave me a helping hand!  
  
“Hey. Clown girl. Are you ok?” She asked.  
“Um... yeah. Thanks for catching me there. Wild night last night.”  
“Sorry about this. Nothing personal.”  
There was a concern in her eyes that didn’t really translate to the current situation. I had just almost fallen down a couple of steps. This wasn’t her fault, she helped me.  
“What are YOU sorry about?”  
“I...” She sighed. “I was the one who guided you to Sionis’ apartment when you were too drunk to walk. And then I made him go upstairs, too. As I said, nothing personal. You ok?”  
“WHAT?” I crossed my arms, scandalized into an all new state of awakeness. “What was that for?? Do we have some beef that I don’t know about?”  
“No, no. It wasn’t about you, it was about him.” She gestured me to sit down for a longer story and offered me some ginger candy to suck on. I took it, fucking delicious, and a good way to get that weird fuzzy feeling out of my mouth.  
“So, what, you offered me as a sex present...?” I asked.  
“Oh no, god no, you didn’t sleep with each other!” She looked genuinely surprised and even a little guilty about it. “I can ease your worries there. It was just meant to look like you did. You were almost passing out, I had to help you BOTH walk upstairs.”  
Oh my god!! This serving of truth immediately brought a huge, if confused smile to my face. Looked like I’d get the whole story now, and I couldn’t WAIT to finally hear what happened. Now that it was clear that it was all a misunderstanding!  
  
“FUCK, I am SO GLAD to hear that. Wait, where was Zsasz while that happened?” I asked.  
“I may have started a fight in the club that he had to break off.” She gave a lopsided smile.  
“You are a little trickster, lady. But WHY?”  
“Sionis is sometimes... a bit too nice, you get what I mean?” She said in a low, disillusioned voice.  
“No. I can honestly say that I truly don’t. I appreciate the few times he IS nice to me.“ I said.  
“No, I mean... _nice_. Needy, flirty, touchy-feely. Like, I appreciate the man for giving me a job and a stage, I really do. Great. But I don’t wanna give him the wrong impression when it comes to how much I’m willing to give for that job.”  
I stared at her in horror. All my worries about what happened last night were immediately forgotten. At least I wasn’t put off by Roman, it just wasn’t worth the consequences in our relationships AND our friendship. But if there was no consent in the first place, with employers molesting the people depending on them? THAT was something else.  
“Has he done anything to you?!” I took her hand in concern. She withdrew it immediately.  
“No, no no. Not YET. He’s just sleazy and flirty. He doesn’t pay THAT much attention to me, but sometimes when he sees me sing, I feel like there’s something. When he’s in a good mood, it’s just gentlemanly niceties, but when he’s in a bad mood, he gets aggressive about it... he gets so inappropriate with guests, too... I don’t wanna see what happens when I openly refuse his advances, you know. He is a psychopath.”  
“Oh, don’t I know it, sis.”  
“So I thought... if he ended up in bed with somebody who’s more than an anonymous one-night-stand... somebody who is a person to him... his guard dog might become so angry that he never does it again.”  
“Oooh, so you just wanted to sacrifice me for the good of all other women?” Now it all made sense!  
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”  
“No, that’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever been used for!”  
  
She chuckled, shook her head and brushed her hair out of her face.  
“You’re a real weirdo, man. The situation is pretty funny, if it wasn’t so sad.” She said. "I’m a goddamn lesbian, but I don’t think that registers for him. No girl dares to look at me when HE’s around, and whenever I look at a girl, he probably thinks I’m checking my competition.”  
“Aw, no... a hot babe like you is single? That’s just insane.” I shook my head in sympathy.  
“It’s fine, my life is too much of a shit show for a girlfriend anyway.” She shrugged.  
“What you need is a girlfriend who’s also involved in dangerous stunts! I’m taken, personally, but if I wasn’t...! Hellooo nurse! I mean that with utter respect, of course.”  
  
“Um. Thanks? That’s a way nicer reaction to me putting you into that situation than I expected...”  
“Oh, I’m used to it!“  
She gave me another ginger candy and I happily chewed on it. But what I really needed now was an aspirin, an egg sandwich and plenty of water. Oof. I got up to leave.  
“I should probably tell Romy at some point... he’s a dick, but we’re kind of friends, you know? Ideally, we get to keep the friendship AND have him drink his respect women juice.”  
The singer chuckled and got up. Judging from her banging outfit, she was waiting for her shift to begin, or rehearsal.  
“Alright. Yeah. Thanks for being a champ about this.” She said and patted my arm to send me off.  
  
Things weren’t looking as devastating as I had feared just minutes earlier and that cheered me up enough to mute my massive hangover a tiny bit. I’d treat myself to a nice breakfast and be happy about the fact that I didn’t catch something from Romy, the old slut. I’d come by his place tomorrow or so, to patch things up. See how things were going with him and Victor. Otherwise, I’d help them get back together again. Maybe we could play some boardgames and hang out in a TOTALLY non-sexual way. Aw man, maybe I forgive people too fast. I’m way too nice sometimes! Talking of... if I can forgive Romy, I should probably give my puddin’ Mistah J another chance, too. After I let him roast for a bit, that is. I’m a strong independent woman and don’t let no man get me down!


End file.
